Running Down Corridors
by KkarmaCchameleon
Summary: Lies and laughter, smiles and smirks, tears and triumphs: the unavoidably complicated lives of Lily, the Marauders, et al.
1. Laughter

It started, as things often do, with a laugh.

* * *

Lily Evans considered herself to be a bright witch. Certainly not the brightest at Hogwarts, and not even the brightest in Gryffindor, a title reserved for Marlene McKinnon. But she liked to think that she was well above average, and she was sure many of her professors and classmates would agree with her if she were to ask. Even Slughorn, head of _Slytherin, _of all things, commended her on her brilliance. She excelled at nearly everything she did, with the obvious exception of flying.

However, at this moment, Lily felt quite dull. She was staring at her Transfiguration book and trying to make sense of it. N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration was proving to be far more advanced than anything she'd studied so far. This shouldn't have been so much of a surprise, but she had expected her sixth year classes to be a continuation of what she'd spent the past five years learning, with the difficulty gradually increasing bit by bit until she could confidently do things like bloody human transfiguration.

It was mad, really, that McGonagall honestly thought they were capable of that. That was far more trust than any of them deserved. What kind of professor thought it was a good idea to allow a group of teenagers the opportunity to attempt to transfigure their own features? Sure, it was just eyebrows for now, but that was only the beginning! Would there be an end to the madness, or would they progress to noses and ears?

Would she end up inadvertently disfiguring her face beyond repair?

The mere thought of it made her shudder.

Why was she even bothering? She'd barely scraped an _E_ on her Transfiguration O.W.L., and she was mystified by how she did that well. Perhaps all of the cramming and crying had paid off in the end. Or maybe she got lucky. That was far more likely. Whatever the case, by some miracle, Lily had managed to get the minimum grade required to proceed. Her _E_ felt like less of an achievement when she was in that class, though; many of her classmates had received _Outstandings_ on the exam, something she felt was absolutely unattainable.

It wasn't the heavy workload that was making it so hard. Potions was a non-issue. Charms was straightforward and easy. Defense Against the Dark Arts was manageable. Mary always assisted her in Herbology, so she never really struggled there. Even with all of the extra homework sixth years were expected to do just to pass their classes, Lily was doing just fine in everything except Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's instructions were never clear enough. The textbook was confusing at best. Her notes were getting sloppier with each lesson as she struggled to keep up. Everyone around her either seemed to understand it perfectly, or appeared to be just as lost as she was. She rarely finished an assignment, and the homework she _was_ able to complete received low marks.

She was in over her head, and she needed help.

Admitting as much was the first step, and she'd gone beyond admitting to herself that she needed help.

About a month earlier, Marlene and Rebecca had walked in to find Lily sitting cross-legged on her bed, a book in front of her. This was not an unusual sight; their bizarre friend could often be found studying in bed rather than at a table. However, the tears dripping down her nose and dampening the pages of the book were, in fact, highly unusual. Though she had resisted their prodding at first, she had eventually caved and tearfully confessed that she was floundering in Transfiguration and had no idea what to do, and that she was afraid she would fail if she didn't get a grasp of the subject in the near future.

So now here she was in the library, poring over her notes, desperately trying to understand just _one_ concept before help arrived in the form of Remus Lupin. He'd been something of a savior, tutoring her every Tuesday and Thursday for the past few weeks, asking nothing in return but chocolate, an exchange she was more than happy to make. She always had a large supply of chocolate on hand, and it was a small price to pay for improving her skills and, more importantly, the return of her sanity.

As she waited, Lily absently drummed her fingers on the desk, struggling to decipher what she'd written about reversing a spell that had gone awry. If it was as simple as McGonagall made it out to be, her problems would shrink exponentially. Every time she mucked up, she could just flick her wand and reverse it and then correct herself. But that wasn't the case; it typically took her an inordinate amount of time to rectify her mistake, and by the time she fixed it, she'd long forgotten where she went wrong in the first place. This, of course, resulted in her making the exact same mistake over and over.

If she hadn't developed the unfortunate habit of accidentally Vanishing it on occasion, she'd be tearing her hair out in frustration. As it was, it was enough to make her wonder whether Transfiguration was a vital part of her education after all. She was on the verge of giving up her goal of becoming an Auror and pursuing something that didn't require learning how to change the color of her god damn eyebrows.

Really, though, what was the benefit of that? They were learning advanced defensive techniques in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Just last week, they'd brewed an antidote that could cure most poisons in Potions. But in Transfiguration, all she'd learned was that she couldn't change her eyebrows from red to brown. In the back of her mind, Lily _knew_ that these ridiculous tasks were likely the gateway to more complex and useful skills, but she was determined to remain bitter for the time being, if only for the slight sense of satisfaction she got from ranting internally about how she wasn't learning anything.

She finished wading through the murky waters of her notes and realized that Remus was late.

Remus was _never_ late.

Of all the Marauders, he was by far the most reliable. You didn't get chosen as prefect by landing yourself in detention approximately three nights a week, give or take. He showed up to class on time, turned in his homework, kept his mouth shut when professors were talking, wasn't caught out of bed at all hours of the night, treated almost everyone with respect, and, above all, he kept his friends in line as best as he could. Lily wouldn't dare go as far as to say that he was perfect, because he definitely had his flaws—his remarkable and seemingly unsubstantiated lack of self-esteem, his addiction to chocolate, his tendency to let James and Sirius get away with a little more than they should _before_ reigning them in, to name a few—but compared to his friends, he was a saint.

This meant that when he did turn up, Lily wouldn't say a word about him being late. As the only Gryffindor boy she could stand to be around for extended periods of time, Remus proved to be a powerful ally, so she could let his tardiness slide.

However, as time slipped by, she was forced to wonder if he would ever show, or if he'd forgotten about her entirely.

* * *

"I forgot. How the hell could I just _forget?"_

Sirius put a comforting hand on Remus's shoulder. "It's okay, Moony. We all let time get away from us every once in a while."

"But this isn't just sleeping through class or forgetting to write home on Wednesdays or not realizing it's three in the morning and you're still studying," he argued. "This is something I can't just forget!"

"You remembered, though," Sirius said. "With time to spare, might I add."

"Hardly! There's barely enough time. Merlin, I can't believe I let myself forget!"

"Remus, it's not the end of the world," Peter said kindly, trying to help.

"But it _could_ have been! Peter, there are consequences to everything, and the consequences can be severe." He put his head in his hands and groaned something incomprehensible.

Before either of them had a chance to ask what he said, the door flew open, and in walked a thoroughly irritated James Potter, covered head to toe in mud.

Sirius and Peter burst into laughter, but Remus didn't so much as crack a smile. "What happened to you?" Sirius inquired.

"Quidditch," he replied shortly. The curious looks from his roommates told him that this was far from a satisfactory answer, considering practice never resulted in such a mess, so he briefly recounted the tale of how it had been storming steadily for several hours but they _had_ to get another practice in because it was getting increasingly challenging to work around everyone's schedules, and when he tried to push off from the ground, he slipped in the mud. "And so," he concluded, "Unless any of you object, I'm going to go wash away the dirt and shame."

"Actually, I do object," Sirius remarked just as James was turning his back.

"What could possibly be going on that is grounds for a valid objection to me taking a fucking _shower?_" James growled.

"Well, you see, Moony's having a bit of a crisis."

That sentence was all it took to cause an immediate change in James's demeanor. "What's going on?" The switch from furious to anxious would have been alarming if they didn't know him so well.

But they did know him well, and they each had their specific roles to play. Sirius was laid-back and carefree most of the time, even at times that called for more solemn behavior. The good end of this was that he could lighten anybody's mood when it was called for. Peter was a constant worrier, but this meant he played careful attention to detail and could point out the flaws in their plans. Remus was the serious one and they sometimes wished he would have more fun, but he did keep them out of trouble.

James was seen by many as the ringleader of their four-man circus, and he was persistent to a fault. He didn't give up, though; he'd spent weeks trying to fix the last flaw in the Map, and had eventually got it fully working. And when one of his friends wasn't playing their part—when Sirius had a serious moment, when Peter got too bold for his own good, when Remus wasn't the rational Remus they knew and loved—he stepped up and filled in for them until they were back to normal.

Right now, he was having to play Moony's part.

"I forgot," Remus said for what felt like the thousandth time.

"How?" he asked softly, understanding the gravity of the situation.

That was a brilliant question, actually. How _had_ he forgotten? Since the start of term, he'd felt more stressed than he ever had in his life, and that was wearing on him. He rarely slept because of classwork and prefect duties and general worries. From when he first set foot in Hogwarts, Remus had had the overwhelming need to prove himself. He desperately wanted to show everyone that he could be normal—he could be _better_ than normal, despite his affliction. He was determined to become another famous werewolf, but for a different reason than all of the others. He was going to do something remarkable and admirable and impressive with his life, and maybe then people like him would get a little more positive recognition and a lot less bad publicity.

This desire led to him reading countless extra books, practicing more than necessary for classes, and taking things more seriously than he needed to at times. All of the expectations he had for himself were taking their toll and he was _this_ close to cracking, and in fact, he'd already cracked just a bit and certain things were slipping through those tiny cracks, and that is why he bloody _forgot._

He didn't say any of this out loud, though, because it was impossible to condense these thoughts into a coherent sentence. So instead, he said, "I don't know."

"Yes you do, and I do too, and I bet if they think about it, Wormtail and Padfoot know it too."

Remus shook his head, because James didn't know, he couldn't know all of the things swimming around in his head.

"You hold yourself to unreachable standards. Don't even bother to deny it. You work your arse off—yes, we notice how hard you work. Don't look so surprised. You're putting too much pressure on yourself to be perfect. You've got to loosen up a little and give yourself a break or you're going to stress yourself to death by age twenty!"

"But the only reason I even remembered is that Peter said, 'shouldn't you be going to see Pomfrey?'" he mumbled, staring at the floor and fiddling with his sheets.

"Listen to me!" James commanded, eyeing him with an intense expression that they all recognized at once. It was the look James got when he was worrying over someone he cared about, this mixture of sympathy and concern and something unidentifiable that all combined together to create the distinct Potter look of absolute loyalty. They'd seen it when he was telling off the Slytherins for trying to shove Peter down a flight of stairs in second year. They'd seen it when they first learned of Lupin's furry little problem. They'd seen it when Sirius told them about his family. They'd seen it time and time again and it was familiar and comforting and a reminder of why he was such an amazing friend to have.

"So you forgot for the first time in your life. You're sixteen, Remus, you're allowed to have lapses from time to time. And I know, it could've been dangerous. But you're surrounded by friends who care about you and will remind you if you let it slip your mind. You haven't endangered anybody, so _please_ quit beating yourself up over this." He grabbed a chocolate frog out of the box under his bed and tossed it to his forlorn friend.

"We'll come visit you tonight," Sirius promised. "Is there anything else you need?"

He was shaking his head when he started panicking all over again. "Damn it!"

They all raised their eyebrows, as if to ask _what now?_

"Lily's waiting for me in the library. I was supposed to help her with Transfiguration tonight."

"I could go help her," James offered, and they knew he must be in a particularly generous mood if he was willing to venture into that territory.

"Really? You mean that?"

He shrugged. "Why not? Who needs to shower anyway?"

Remus gave him a small smile and waved his wand, cleaning off James's robes in an instant.

"Guess I should've thought of that," he muttered.

* * *

Lily had reached a point of hopelessness and had resigned herself to the fact that Remus probably wasn't going to show up. She knew she wouldn't hold it against him in the long run, but at the moment, she couldn't help but be a little angry. He was _always_ true to his word, always did what he said he would. Either something was terribly wrong—in which case she would feel wretched for being mad at him—or Potter and Black had finally succeeded in influencing him into the treacherous world of mischief. Or there was the equally possible scenario that he'd simply, uncharacteristic though it was, _forgotten._

He was only human, after all.

As she read over another passage in the book, thinking that it might as well be in Ancient Runes because not a single word of it made sense to her, she saw a pair of legs in front of the table. "About time," she grumbled before dragging her eyes up.

"What happened to your face?" they asked at the same time.

James took the chair across from her. "What do you mean, what happened to _my_ face?"

"Besides that it wasn't the face I was expecting, nor one I particularly wanted to see?" she quipped. "It's rather dirty."

"That little _bastard!"_ He'd assumed Moony had cleaned all of the mud off, but they were all known for doing small favors halfway and no further, mainly for their own amusement. And at a time like this, he didn't fault him for it. "Well, no matter. That little bastard, by the way, sends his deepest regrets that he was unable to assist you tonight, but he's fallen ill."

And here came the guilt for being cross... "Oh. Er, not to be rude, but why are you here?"

"Well, as you undoubtedly don't know, I'm the best in our year at Transfiguration, and—"

"I did know that," she interrupted. "Remus has told me a half dozen times. He told me I should get you to help me because you're the one _he_ goes to when he can't figure it out."

"Right. So, if you don't mind me asking, what happened to _your_ face?"

Her cheeks flushed and she unconsciously ran a hand across the feature in question. "I was practicing earlier. Well, trying to practice. I meant to turn one of my eyebrows brown like we were _supposed_ to learn in class but McGonagall lost me halfway through the explanation. I really thought I had it this time after all the extra studying. But, well, as you can see..."

"You Vanished your own eyebrows?" he finished for her, sounding amused.

"It's not funny!" she wailed, earning herself Madam Welles's famous death glare. "It's not funny," she whispered.

"I must say, I disagree. I find it quite hilarious. But it's a simple fix." He lazily flicked his wand.

She flinched, as though she was expecting a curse. When she found that she hadn't been murdered or maimed, she dug around in her bag for a mirror. "You did it!" she crowed quietly.

"I have to ask: how long had you been going around without eyebrows?"

She mumbled an answer.

"Sorry?"

"About five hours."

He chuckled. "Let's make a deal," he started.

"Let's not," she protested.

"Hear me out, Evans. You're struggling in Transfiguration. Now, I know your former tutor asked only for chocolate in return but I'm not quite as easy to please."

This was a test. Surely the universe was testing her to see just how much this class was worth to her.

"I'd like for you to help me in Charms in exchange."

That was nowhere near as awful as some of the thoughts that had crossed her mind in the few seconds he'd paused, and she gladly agreed.

For at least two hours, they worked diligently, each doing their best to teach the other.

Lily thought about how peculiar this situation was. James Potter, of all people, had agreed to help out, and he hadn't mocked her botched attempt at basic human Transfiguration nearly as much as he should have. In fact, if the roles were reversed, she was positive that she would've had a good laugh at his expense before offering assistance. He'd barely chuckled. Was he terminally ill and trying to make up for all of his past wrongdoings by taking in a charity case such as herself?

Or maybe, just maybe, he'd grown and matured.

But he was probably dying.

James thought about how normal it felt, the two of them studying together. Almost like they were friends. And he'd been needing help in Charms for years but had been too proud to ask any of his friends for help. A perfect opportunity had presented itself; who was he to refuse?

"I'm curious about something, Potter. Your Charms work tends to come out about like my eyebrows until you finally figure it out. What's your worst Charms mishap?"

"And why should I tell you this?"

"You've seen me without eyebrows and will forever cherish that memory. Surely you can spare me one story of an atrocious spell so I feel a little better about myself." It was only fair.

"I was practicing for O.W.L.s and Professor Flitwick offered to help me after class. All he wanted me to do was turn his hat magenta, but I reckon I panicked, because it stayed the same color but grew until it was enormous and just about swallowed him whole. Also, it sprouted fangs. I didn't know what to do so, naturally, I did the wrong thing and tried to Stun it, forgetting that it was still on top of Flitwick. I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

And for the first time, she was genuinely laughing at something James said.

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself, but his smile faltered and he abruptly stood up and left, leaving behind his wand and a thoroughly perplexed redhead.

* * *

**I** apologize for the terrible description. I'm awful at summarizing things.


	2. The Frustration of Dorian Gray

James sprinted the whole way back to his dormitory, mind and heart racing.

When he got there, clutching a stitch in his chest and gasping, he was hoping it would be empty so he would have time to collect his thoughts. Instead, he was met with Sirius yelping, "What the hell happened?"

"She laughed," he said, as though that explained everything, and to him, it did.

That one laugh had reignited a fire that he had considered extinguished for months, and now he needed to put out the flames once more or else they would take over like they had before.

Despite all of the firewhiskey, the girls he'd kissed, and the dozens of times he'd assured himself there was _nothing there,_ he still fancied Lily.

"Er, what did she laugh about, exactly?" Peter asked, unsure of why laughter was such an awful thing. Then his eyes widened. "Did you do something idiotic and now you regret it?" There was an implied _again_ hanging in the air.

"No! I mean, not exactly. You remember when I couldn't perform a basic Color Change Charm?"

"Are you referring to just last week?" Sirius joked. Peter shot him a look, which he ignored, as he often did.

James pretended Sirius hadn't spoken. This was usually the best tactic. "And I had to go to Flitwick for help and I—"

"Tried to kill the poor old man," Peter suggested, unable to help himself.

"An event that will forever live in infamy," said Sirius, grinning brightly.

"You're the worst," he complained. "Both of you. It's a shame Moony has to be ill. He'd have something useful to say."

"Sorry," they said with equal insincerity.

"I told her that memorable story and she laughed."

"How dare she!" Sirius exclaimed, putting a hand over his heart and affecting a look of shocked horror.

"Merlin, how should we punish her? Public hexing almost seems too kind!"

"It really does," Sirius said. "Are there any rules against burning witches at the stake on school grounds?

"I hate you," James grumbled. "I wish I'd been sorted into Hufflepuff. I'm sure I'd have better friends there."

"But you'd miss out on all the fun!"

"Forget it. I'll just wait for Dorian to get in. Maybe he'll listen to me."

* * *

Dorian Gray harbored more resentment for his parents than the average sixteen year old should.

For starters, they named him after an Oscar Wilde character. What sensible adult would even let that idea cross their mind during the baby name brainstorming sessions? His Muggle-born mother had loved the book growing up and after marrying Charles Gray, she thought it would be the perfect opportunity to pay homage to her favorite story; his father couldn't come up with anything better to name him, so it was decided early on that he would be Dorian Gray.

They were always going through rough patches over one thing or another, and never did anything to ease the problems. Charles had been a Slytherin, while Iris was a Ravenclaw, and their fights often centered around who was cleverer. Pathetic, really. It made him all the more glad he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, if only because it meant neither of his parents could use him in an argument.

And lastly, because he couldn't stress it enough, _they named him after an Oscar Wilde character._

He was writing the final sentence of what was surely the best History of Magic essay he'd ever written when a frazzled redhead burst into the Common Room. "Has anyone seen Potter?"

"He's upstairs," Dorian said.

She gave him the look he had grown used to getting from his fellow Gryffindors. The look that said _I think I recognize you from somewhere. _"He left his wand in the library." She twirled it between her fingers, not liking the way it felt. It was so different from her own.

"I could take it to him," he volunteered, preparing himself for the inevitable question.

"Er, sorry, who are you, exactly?" Lily asked.

He laughed, because it was the only sensible reaction. His first couple of years, he'd gotten upset whenever somebody asked. But now he just brushed it off. It wasn't their fault; his roommates were so infamous throughout the school that it wasn't surprising that nobody really knew who he was. "I'm Dorian." She still had a blank look. "Sixth year Gryffindor," he added.

"Really?" She tried to place him, convinced she had only seen him in passing. Then it dawned on her: "You're the one who—"

"Got into the Devil's Snare," he finished. Once people realized who he was, that was the one event they could always tie to him. During his first year, he'd tripped in one of the greenhouses and was at first thankful that a plant had been there to break his fall. That was, until he discovered what the plant was. And even though it happened five years ago, that was the only thing anyone really knew about him.

"Sorry," she said. "I guess I knew there was a fifth one up there, since there's five beds." She only knew how many beds there were from studying in there with Remus once before the noise from the others became unbearable. "I just never really considered who it was." As soon as she said it, she realized that it wasn't helping the fact that she didn't know somebody she'd been going to school with for years. She opened her mouth to apologize again, but Dorian stopped her._  
_

"Don't. Trust me, I know better than anyone how much attention those four require. There's hardly any energy left to figure out who the poor soul is that has to share a room with them. Besides, we've only got one class together anymore and you're usually showing off or scowling at James, so it's no wonder you haven't seen me."

Well, they definitely didn't have Transfiguration together, she thought bitterly. "Charms?"

"Yep!" He saw that she still looked guilty. "Seriously, don't feel bad about it. I'm never around Gryffindor anyway. I spend most of my time with the Ravenclaws."

"If you say so. So you'll take him his wand?"

* * *

Peter and Sirius were still having fun at James's expense, something they'd been enjoying for about fifteen minutes. He was considering which hex to use, or whether he could hold out until Remus recovered and he had somebody he could talk to about serious matters, when the door mercifully opened.

"Just the bloke I was looking for!" James crowed. "Have a seat!"

"I'm just here delivering your wand," Dorian explained. "Lily brought it by. Said something about you leaving it in the library."

"I _knew_ I was forgetting something," he mumbled.

"James," Sirius began solemnly. "I tell you this all the time and I'm sure you're tired of hearing it, but you're an idiot."

"Dorian, my friends are horrible."

"We tend to surround ourselves with likeminded people," he said before he could stop himself.

James grinned. "I like this one," he said, as though they had just met and had not, in fact, shared a room since the age of eleven. "You should hang around more often."

"Look, I appreciate the effort to be more inclusive, and I'm sure you feel very off-balance because Lupin is sick again, but I can't fill in for him." There was a reason the five of them interacted infrequently, and things were meant to stay that way. Dorian identified with people from other houses, and he wondered all the time why he was in Gryffindor. Even Slytherin seemed like a better fit for him. The Marauders didn't need to try to force a friendship that none of them wanted. So without another word, he was gone, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"See," Peter said, gesturing towards the door. "Not even _he_ wants to listen to you!"

Even James had to laugh at that. "Merlin, I really _am_ pathetic."

"You are," Sirius assured him. "But in Moony's untimely absence, if you need to talk about it, Peter is always here to listen."

"Hey! Don't drag me into this!" Peter protested.

"Just forget it. It'll pass, won't it?" He was trying to convince himself and really needed their reassurance.

"I wouldn't count on it, Prongs. Personally, I never thought you were over her in the first place."

Peter nodded in agreement and James sighed. "_Now_ you're willing to give advice?"

* * *

"And then he just ran off!"

"Well then," Marlene said with mock seriousness. "That settles it."

"He's completely mad, that one. You'd better watch out," Rebecca warned.

"Lily, I think you're getting yourself worked up over nothing. He probably remembered he had to do something and left without giving you a reason. He's not known for being tactful," Mary reminded her.

"But don't you think it's a little odd?" Lily pressed, just wanting _one_ of her friends to agree with her. "Potter just shows up and offers to help, even though we've hardly said a word to each other since, well, since— Oh, you know." It was still a fresh enough wound that none of them referenced it specifically. "So he helps me out and fixes my eyebrows on the condition that I help him in Charms—not something inane like going to Hogsmeade with him, but an actual request. And then _just_ when I think things are going well and maybe he's not so horrible after all, he runs away."

"It _is_ a little odd," Rebecca conceded. "But think who we're talking about. Is there really a normal behavior for Potter?"

"Yes! Normal would be if he'd come to tell me that Remus was sick—which is weird in and of itself. That boy falls ill more than anybody I know—and then laughed at my eyebrow mishap for a good ten or fifteen minutes before offering to fix them for me if _and only if_ I say I'll go out with him."

"What I think is strange is how much you care," said Mary.

"I don't care!" Lily exclaimed, too quickly and too defensively. "I don't care _that_ much," she amended. "But c'mon, if you suddenly got the best help at your worst subject and then, just as suddenly, they were gone, you'd wonder what happened too."

"Why don't you just ask him?" Marlene suggested.

"Because we don't talk! I think the only time I've spoken to him since the incident was to give him and Sirius detention a couple weeks ago. We can't go from never interacting to him being nice to me to him up and leaving without a word, _all in the same night!"_ Why didn't they see how out of character it was?

"You're not even focusing on the real issue. I'm concerned about what's wrong with Remus," Rebecca said, hoping for a change of topic. Whenever Lily got in one of her intense moods, it was easy enough to get her going off on tangents, and she'd been rambling on about James for a dreadfully long time.

"You know, you're right." Whatever mysterious illness was plaguing him, it had to be serious. Most magical ailments had cures of some sort, so what could possibly keep coming back? "Okay, let's put the Potter issue aside for a while and investigate."

Mary shook her head but smiled. Lily wasn't herself if she wasn't poking around in somebody's business, usually because she thought it was for their own good, and also because it provided her with a distraction from whatever was bothering her at the moment. It was because of this that she pulled a large volume out from under her bed. "Magical Maladies of the Twentieth Century!" she said excitedly, offering it to Lily.

"Why do you even have that?" Marlene asked, snickering.

"Light reading," she snipped. She wanted to be a Healer one day and was trying to get a head start by reading through several books on the subject.

Lily clapped her hands together, glad to have a new project. "Let's get to it, then!"


	3. Phoenix Flu

There were over three thousand different illnesses described in Mary's book, and Lily spent her entire weekend reading about each and every one of them. From the self-explanatory to the not-so-predictable, she was confident that she could diagnose her classmates almost as skillfully as Madam Pomfrey.

She'd narrowed Remus's condition down to three possible ailments, and from there eliminated two of them: one was highly disputed and most Healers now considered it to be just an acute case of dragon pox, and the other was just so far out of the question that she shouldn't have even considered it plausible in the first place. That left one, and it was obscure enough that maybe, just _maybe_, he didn't even know he had it, or that it existed at all. So naturally, she had to tell him. Just in case.

She sat across from him at breakfast and, without any pleasantries, informed him, "Remus, I think you have the phoenix flu."

He shot her a confused look as he nibbled the corner of a chocolate bar. "What?"

"The phoenix flu," she repeated in a grave tone. "It's a rare disease that—"

"I know what it is," he said with a sigh. "Why do you think I have it?"

"Well, I was reading Mary's copy of Magical Maladies of the Twentieth Century and—"

"What on _earth_ possessed you to read that?" he laughed.

"I was worried!" she huffed. "You get sick all the time and I decided to get to the bottom of it."

"Well then, by all means, enlighten me. What leads you to believe that I have the phoenix flu?"

She began rattling off symptoms. "Weakened immune system, frequent recurrences of illness, loss of appetite—you've barely touched your breakfast," she pointed out, like that was all the proof she needed.

"I'm eating this," he argued, waving the chocolate for emphasis.

"Exactly! Sugar addiction is another symptom. Pale, clammy skin. Weight loss. Unexplained scratches. The list goes on. And if it goes untreated for too long, you'll develop a rash that eventually burns through your skin."

"And how do you propose I go about healing myself?" He was enjoying this and was glad to have something to laugh about.

"There's only one cure: phoenix tears. That's how it got its name."

"Lily, I'm sure you put a lot of work into your research, and I really do appreciate the concern, but I don't have the phoenix flu."

She frowned. "But all of the symptoms added up. Besides the skin rash, I mean. You don't have that—yet."

"And that was the _only_ disease you could find that fit my symptoms?" He was surprised she hadn't figured it out. She was bright, but she could overlook the obvious.

"Well, there were three," she said, sounding unsure.

"What were the other two?"

"One of them was pixie pox, but there was only one case of it and they've all but confirmed that it was just a particularly nasty case of dragon pox. And the other was so preposterous that I eliminated it immediately."

"What was it?" he asked, his voice sharper than he had intended.

"That you're a werewolf." She grinned. "And you're obviously not a werewolf, so the only option left was phoenix flu. You should probably go to Madam Pomfrey today, unless she already knows, but if she already knows, then you'd have been cured by now."

Remus thought it was great to have a friend who cared so much about him but who was so utterly clueless about his wolfish ways. It was refreshing. "Lily Evans, you are one of a kind."

* * *

"The _what_?"

"The phoenix flu," Remus chortled as James gaped at him and Sirius and Peter howled with laughter. "There hasn't been a documented case of it since 1914."

"And Evans thinks you've somehow caught a disease that hasn't been diagnosed in decades?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yup."

"Damn," James muttered. "She's brilliant but she can be so naive. She really thinks it's impossible that you could a _werewolf?_" He said the last word in a hushed tone, like there was danger someone might overheard him.

"You have to tell her," Sirius said.

"No I don't!" he protested.

"Moony, she'll drag you to the Hospital Wing herself if you don't go within the next couple of days," James said. "It'll be better in the long run if you just tell her."

"Besides," Peter added, smirking. "If she's eventually going to marry one of your closest friends, she'll have to find out sooner or later."

James's face flushed slightly but he gave no other indication that he'd heard what Peter said. "She's your friend, right?" When Remus nodded, he continued. "Then it won't make any difference to her. When we figured it out, you were still the same old Remus."

"And it gave you an excuse for the inordinate amount of chocolate you consume," Sirius teased.

"How am I supposed to bring this up in conversation? _'I see that you have a cat. Cats have paws. So do werewolves. Hey, by the way, I'm a werewolf.'"_

"Yes," James said sardonically. "That's exactly what you should say."

* * *

Sirius could've sworn he'd seen a flash of familiar dark hair disappearing into a broom cupboard. Surely he was mistaken—there was no way that sweet, innocent Mary Macdonald was sneaking off to meet someone. That was about as likely as Remus doing the same.

Still, there was no harm in investigating.

Or at least, that was his excuse to open the door the rest of the way; the girl was so inexperienced in the subtle art of secrecy that she'd left the door cracked. And there she was, standing casually by the wall in one of the few well-lit cupboards at Hogwarts. "Mary!" he gasped in false astonishment. "You devious little thing. What are you—"

"Shut up!" she whispered harshly, dragging him in and shutting the door _almost_ all the way, still leaving a little room to see through. "I'm waiting for Remus."

"Should've known. It's always the quiet ones."

"Shut up!" she said again, glaring fiercely. "It's not like that. I just want to get to him before Lily does."

Sirius was disappointed. Remus needed a little action or something, _anything,_ to keep him from snapping. "Is she still harping on that phoenix disease?"

Mary nodded. "It's all she's talked about for days," she complained. "She hasn't even mentioned _'that insufferable Potter.'_ I kind of miss her James-centered rants."

"What are you planning on telling him? Just give in and pretend to go get cured? Evans is too stubborn to believe that."

She shook her head. "No, quite the opposite, in fact. I'm going to urge him to tell her the truth."

That surprised him, but he tried not to jump to the conclusion that she was implying what he thought she was. "And what's that?"

"Don't play dumb, Sirius. _I know._"

"You—you know _what,_ exactly?"

She dropped her voice even further. "I know about his monthly condition."

"How?" he asked nervously.

"It was obvious," she said nonchalantly. "I'm shocked Lily hasn't figured it out yet, but sometimes her heart is so big it gets in the way of her head. She can't even imagine somebody she cares about being something so, well, for lack of a better word, _vile._ But I've been tracking his symptoms and illnesses for months. I figured it out ages ago."

Sirius detected a note of pride in her voice. "You haven't mentioned this to anybody else, right?"

"Of course not. It's not my secret to tell. But it _is_ Remus's secret to tell, and it's better that he tells her now because she is relentless and she won't stop talking about him getting treatment until he confesses."

"What if we let her figure it out on her own?" he suggested. No matter how he worked it in his head, he couldn't fathom a scenario in which Remus would just casually admit to being a werewolf. "We could plant clues for her!"

Mary smiled, but it was patronizing. "What kind of clues? Claw marks on the floor by her bed? A tuft of fur in her hairbrush? Or we could have, ah, what's his name, the strange one in your room?"

"You mean Dorian?" Sirius laughed at the idea that out of all of them, _Dorian_ was the strange one.

"Yeah. Him. We could have Dorian make one of those weird abstract paintings he does, something that just barely resembles a wolf howling at the moon."

He rolled his eyes. "I was thinking something a little simpler. We could leave a book open to a passage about werewolves in the Common Room."

"That's basic third year Defense Against the Dark Arts," she scoffed. "That's not enough to captivate her interest."

"Well then, how about this..."

* * *

There were not a lot of things Remus felt like he could control.

He had no control over his condition. He'd been so young when it happened that he hadn't even stood a chance. He couldn't control the moon; it controlled him. He had no say in the implementation of the Whomping Willow, not that he wasn't grateful. He felt like people were always making decisions for him, choosing how his life was supposed to pan out. His fate was never fully in his own hands.

But one thing he _could_ control was who all knew his secret. His family, Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, and his three best friends. That was enough. There was no chance in hell he was going to tell Lily.

His quiet and contemplative walk back to the Common Room was interrupted by a piercing shriek down the corridor: "Sirius Black, that is the worst idea I've ever heard!"

He recognized the voice and was almost positive he'd heard that exact phrase from her before, but the noise seemed to emanate from a cupboard. What possible explanation was there for Sirius and Mary to be lurking together like that?

Obviously, he had no choice but to check it out.

He approached the door with caution, the tiniest bit frightened of what he might find. To his relief, Mary threw open the door and greeted him with a warm smile. "Thank Merlin! I was getting tired of being the only voice of reason!"

"What idea was so atrocious that you had to shout like that? It can't have been any worse than the Great Restricted Section Debacle."

Sirius shot him an irritable look while Mary cocked her head to the side, confused. "What's the Great Restricted Section Debacle and why have I never heard of it?"

"Because," said Sirius, still scowling at Remus. "We swore we'd never speak of it again." He frowned for a moment longer before shrugging. "But we aren't here to dredge up dreadful memories. That's what the holidays are for."

"Right," Mary agreed. "We've actually been waiting for you."

"Really?" Remus asked skeptically. "You were waiting for me? In a broom cupboard? What reason would I have had to—"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Not important." She glanced around and, although there were no other students in sight, she dropped her voice to a whisper. "You have to tell Lily the truth."

"No I d— Wait. How do _you_ know?" Surely Sirius hadn't told her... He was causal and joking, but he was typically good at keeping secrets. Unless he got drunk and spilled. That had been known to happen before, just not with something so huge. It definitely wasn't James. Peter, then? No, he was almost as loyal as the other two, despite his thirst to be well-liked.

Mary put his mind at ease before he could continue mentally accusing his friends, "I figured it out myself. Sorry." She felt awkward admitting it to him.

Why did all of his friends have to be so damn clever? Couldn't he befriend just _one_ dolt who honestly believed he was sick all the time without giving a reason? "Well, why do you think I have to tell her?"

"Because she's your friend and if you trust her, you'll tell her the truth. And you and I both know she won't think anything of it. She's Muggle-born, remember? She didn't grow up learning to fear _them._"

He still wasn't convinced. "Why aren't _you_ scared of me, then?"

She and Sirius tried to hold back their laughter. "You're about as terrifying as my mum's ancient cat."

He was about to retort when Sirius yelled, "Evans!"

Lily whipped her head around and sighed. Whatever was going on, it would probably result in paperwork she didn't have the time or energy to deal with. Sometimes she hated being a prefect. "What is it?"

When she was close enough, Mary grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the cupboard. Lily was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. "Remus has something he wants to tell you," Mary said after shutting the door.

Lily brightened at once. "You're finally going to let Madam Pomfrey treat you? It's about time."

"For Merlin's sake, I don't have the phoenix flu!"

She wouldn't accept that answer. Later, he wouldn't be able to recall precisely what made him say it. But she was babbling on about the evidence and treatment and symptoms and that stupid book of maladies and Mary was smirking and Sirius was tapping his foot and he was upset that Mary had figured it out and they were all staring at him and he wished he'd never come to Hogwarts and he hated the three of them so much right now and too much was going on so he just spit it out:

"Lily! I'm a werewolf."


	4. Chocolate

No matter how often he visited, James never quite got used to the absolutely magical feeling of being in Hogsmeade. Something about the village just made him smile, and despite what else was going on in his life, his spirits were always lifted by sneaking out of the castle for just an hour or two and grabbing a butterbeer with his friends.

Today, however, he was in Hogsmeade under totally normal circumstances, slowly strolling down the street alongside most of his classmates. Still, he felt that warm glow in his chest, the same way he felt when he was playing Quidditch. It was the closest he got to being home while he was at school, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't get homesick from time to time. He was only sixteen and was bound to miss the comfort of home sometimes.

Slowly, James let himself fall behind his friends. They had a tradition of always stopping by the Three Broomsticks first before going elsewhere. He would catch up with them later, but right now, he was on a mission.

From his early days of Lily-stalking, he knew a few things. For instance, she had voracious appetite for sweets, and he had, on more than one occasion, _accidentally_ bumped into her in Honeydukes. Completely coincidental, of course. But he was sure that if he spent enough time wandering around in the shop, she would, without a doubt, eventually come through the door to buy her weight in sugary treats. It was just a matter of time.

He was going to use this opportunity to restock on Fizzing Whizbees, and had picked up enough to last him until the next trip to Hogsmeade when he noticed a pale forehead and red hair just barely visible over what appeared to be the shop's entire stock of chocolate.

"Evans?" James called.

Lily jumped and everything came tumbling out of her arms. With a scowl, she stooped to her knees and started gathering everything up. Here was his chance; he replaced his candy on the shelves for the time being and leaned down to help her. "Was that really necessary?"

"Sorry," he muttered. "Just trying to get your attention."

"Well, you've got it now. What is so bloody important?" she asked impatiently, standing up and cursing under her breath at the sight of the line.

"Here, let me hold some of those for you," he offered.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"For starters, I'd hate to see you get crushed under so much chocolate. That would be _such_ a tragedy," he explained, grinning. "And, as I'm sure you know, it'll give me enough time to tell you what was, in your words, so _bloody important._"

"Fine. You've got until the front of the line. Start talking." She handed over half of the chocolate.

"Well, I know Moony told you his secret," he said quietly.

"Mmhmm," she said distractedly, still trying to balance everything.

James frowned at her lack of interest in the topic. "Sirius said that when you found out, you didn't really say much of anything."

"I did say something," she argued.

"Yeah. _'Okay.'_ That was _all_ you could think to say? Okay?"

She sighed. "I was surprised, that's all. Believe it or not, I'm still getting used to all of this."

"All of what?"

"This!" She adjusted the boxes of candy once more so she could free a hand to gesture around the store. "Magic. I've only known about it for a few years now. I'm still learning. The first time I came to Hogsmeade, I nearly fainted, it was so overwhelming." Why did the line have to move so slowly? And why was she having to explain herself to Potter in the first place? At least the crowd meant it was easy to have a discussion without anybody noticing or caring. She dropped her voice to a whisper anyway, just in case. "Muggles don't have to worry about things like vampires and dragons and werewolves and the like. That's the stuff of fairytales for us. Mermaids, pixies, ghosts, moving staircases, it's like a storybook. So every once in a while, something is going to take me by surprise. That's just the law of averages."

James didn't know what law she was referring to. Probably a Muggle thing. "But now you're acting all normal, like you don't know at all."

"What am I supposed to do? Start walking on eggshells around him? He's one of my best friends, not some pathetic charity case. Nothing has changed."

James suddenly grinned brightly. "Excellent! You passed!" That was exactly what he'd hoped she would say, and she hand't let him down.

They were finally at the front and Lily decided it wasn't worth it to ask what she had passed. She ignored his shocked expression at the price of everything; it was going to last her several weeks, after all.

"So, er, how do you plan on getting all of that back?"

Lily sized up the bags and realized he had a point. There was no chance in hell she could get back to the castle without help. But she always looked forward to walking there by herself. She could people-watch to her heart's desire, and she didn't have to think about _anything—_her slipping grades, her friends' troubles, Petunia. It was her one chance to completely empty her mind of all of the nuisances that were typically swimming around in there, and there was nothing better than a clear head.

She really needed to invest in a Pensieve.

He was still waiting for an answer—something snippy and sarcastic, more than likely—but when another few seconds passed without her saying anything, James took it upon himself to grab three of the bags from her and strode out of the store.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, joining him outside and trying to snatch her purchases back.

"Evans, _I_ couldn't carry all of this by myself. What makes you think you could?" He meant it to be funny and charming. So, naturally, it came across as condescending.

"What makes you think you're stronger than me?" she countered.

"Never mind," he said quickly, not wanting to get into _that_ argument. Especially not with her. "C'mon, let me help you. I'd hate to read in the _Prophet_ tomorrow morning that they found your body beneath a hundred pounds of candy."

She fought back a smile, still a little irritated. "If you must."

Just when she was beginning to hope that, even though he insisted on walking with her, he was at least going to let her enjoy the peaceful silence, James _had_ to ask, "How long's it going to take you to eat all of this?"

Lily's theory was that if he went too long without talking, he would either combust from all of the unspoken words built up, or he would simply cease to exist. "I think the sugar quills'll last till after Christmas."

He hadn't even noticed the sugar quills. "But what about the—"

She cut him off. "I don't particularly like chocolate."

He almost asked _what girl doesn't like chocolate?_ Considering he was already on very thin ice, he thought better of it and chose to inquire about her motives instead. "Why in Merlin's name would you buy this much chocolate if you don't even _like_ it?"

"It's stupid."

She _was_ aware who she was talking to, right? "Try me."

After glancing around to make sure there wasn't anyone within earshot—and of course there wasn't; they were halfway back already and nobody else was leaving this early—she said, "The full moon's coming up and, I dunno, I read that chocolate helps and that explained why he's always eating chocolate, so I thought I'd make him a care package or something. Told you it was stupid."

He was going to argue with her, because that was just so bloody _sweet_, but he stopped and took a long look at the girl next to him. Yes, she was pretty. She always looked stunning. But beneath that natural beauty, something wasn't quite right with her. There were circles under her eyes, which were lacking their usual luster. She was missing the spark that made her Lily Evans. "How are you doing in Transfiguration?"

"Speaking of stupid," she laughed bitterly.

"That's not what I meant!" They were back, which should have been a relief, but they still had far too many staircases to climb. "I just, I meant, you look really tired and I've seen you up late studying and I was wondering if there's anything I can do to help."

"Well, if you must know, I did decently for about a week before I got behind again. I can't catch up. I lost my eyebrows again last week." That summed up her entire life. How was she supposed to balance Prefect duties, learning to Apparate, and all of her classes, and still be expected to get a good night's sleep? She was a tower that was one misplaced brick away from collapsing.

Just one last staircase. "I wouldn't mind helping, you know. Remus is brilliant, but he's not great at explaining things, and it's not even his best subject."

_"Animus,"_ she said, waiting for the portrait to swing open before she answered him so she didn't seem too eager, even though she was going to accept his offer. She needed all the help she could get, and it wasn't as though she had any pride left to swallow anyway. "If it's no trouble, then I guess that'd be okay." She gave him a small smile, which he counted as a huge win, and took her Honeydukes bags from him. "I can get these upstairs by myself. Not that you could go up there anyway, as I'm sure you remember."

"That was second year! How was I supposed to know?"

"Why would a second year boy need to go to the girls' dormitory?" With a wave, she left him alone in the Common Room.

What was he getting himself into?


	5. Confidence

She was crying.

He had never seen her cry before, not even when he'd slipped up and called her a mudblood. He had always assumed she just didn't cry, _ever._ But there she was across the room, head in her hands, sobbing something he couldn't understand while that blonde girl—what was her name? Not that it mattered—tried to console her.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the uncharacteristic display of emotion or that it should have been _him_ comforting her. Regardless, it was revolting, and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Longing for the mudblood again, Severus?" Avery sneered from beside him. "What's wrong with her, anyway?"

Snape didn't answer him, just kept staring. That was a good question, though; what _was_ wrong with her? What happened that was so earth-shatteringly horrible that it made her break down like that in public?

"I've got a good shot from here," Avery murmured, reaching for his wand. "I could give her something to cry about."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Avery chuckled and turned around. "And you're going to stop me?"

"I could," Peter Pettigrew said, his voice stronger than he felt.

"All by yourself? With no friends to protect you?" he taunted. "Go ahead, give it your best shot."

In an instant, Peter had drawn his wand and had it at Avery's throat. He was counting on something to happen before he had to follow through, because despite this sudden surge of recklessness, he wasn't entirely convinced that he could do this.

That _something_ came just when it needed to. "Enough!" Madam Welles whisper-yelled. Peter jumped backwards and she grabbed both of them by the elbows and dragged them along with her, muttering about the fitting, albeit archaic, punishment for disturbances in the library.

Severus returned his attention to Lily and was enraged to find that the blonde girl had been replaced by Potter.

Figures.

* * *

Rebecca Kennings had a knack for cheering people up. It was a skill she was glad to have, because that was a talent that never got old, that nobody would ever grow tired of.

So when she saw her best friend crying in the library, clutching something in her hand so tightly her knuckles were white, she had to make it better, whatever _it_ was.

"Lily?" she asked quietly, sitting next to her. "What's wrong?"

Lily shook her head, unable to speak.

"C'mon," she coaxed. "Look at me." When her soothing voice failed, she often resorted to what her brother referred to as a cheap party trick and what her beaming father called a rare gift.

Lily looked up to see that Rebecca's face had morphed into something grotesque. Usually, just the sight of that pig snout would make her collapse into laughter. Not tonight, though. She shook her head again.

Rebecca sighed and let her features return to normal. "What's wrong?" she repeated.

She handed over the parchment she was holding. Rebecca took it and did her best to read Lily's sloppy penmanship.

_Petunia,_

_I miss you. You'd think that after spending the summer at home, I'd be glad to have a lengthy escape from my family for a while, and I was, but I want to be home more than anything right now. I just want to be around the people who love me and don't expect me to perform ridiculously advanced spells at the drop of a hat. I know you wouldn't understand that, but surely you understand wanting to feel normal, right?_

_I feel anything BUT normal. I'm surrounded by people who are just like me and yet I still feel like the odd one out. I'm struggling to keep my head above the water in my classes. I've accidentally Vanished my own eyebrows four times, if you can believe that. Nobody else seems to be having as much trouble with Transfiguration as I am, and I haven't slept in about a week because I'm trying so hard to understand what we're learning. I've stooped to getting Potter's help with it and I'm improving a little, but I don't think I've got a chance of passing._

_We used to be so close, Tuney, and I wish we still were, because right now, all I want is for my big sister to give me advice and tell me everything is going to be alright._

_Lots of love,_

_Lily_

"Well, that—"

"Read the back," Lily said, her voice hoarse.

In a much nicer handwriting, there was a short paragraph:

_I can't count how many times I've asked you to quit writing me, and I don't know why I'm encouraging it with a response, but you need to hear this. You aren't normal. You will never be normal. I can't give you advice on how to fit in with the bunch of freaks you go to school with, but you'll no doubt find a way to get it together and still come off as perfect._

_P.E._

"I wasn't even worth a fresh sheet of paper," she choked, putting her face in her hands. "I wish she hadn't replied at all if she was just going to write that _on the back of my letter,_" she cried, the words muffled.

She had only met Petunia Evans once when she went to visit Lily the summer between third and fourth year, and she was one of the most vile people she'd had the misfortune of meeting. Petunia made some of the Slytherins seem like delightful playmates. And yet Lily still valued her opinions, still sought her approval, still wanted her affection. Rebecca definitely had her work cut out for her.

"Lily, your sister is an idiot. And also a bitch, but that's not important right now. Of _course_ you're normal! Do you think you're the only sixth year struggling with something? We're all flailing uselessly."

"But _you're_ doing fine in Transfiguration," she argued stubbornly, her head still down.

Rebecca laughed. "I'm a Metamorphmagus. I'm _supposed_ to be good at Transfiguration. But you know I got a T on my History of Magic O.W.L., right? I couldn't even scrape a D."

Lily looked up, frowning, but at least her eyes were dry now. "It's not _just_ the class, though. It's _her._ It's that she's my sister and she doesn't care enough to put any effort into writing me—she wrote it on the back of mine, so now she doesn't even have any evidence of communication. This is the first letter I've gotten from her all year, and all she does is reiterate that she thinks I'm a freak."

"Have you ever considered that she might be jealous?"

"No." _Yes._

"When we were younger, Andrew used to tease me all the time about how often I changed my hair. He'd call me a freak, but it turned out he was just jealous because he wasn't special like me."

"Well, Bex, you _are_ a freak."

The joke alone was a victory. "You're right. Only a freak would put up with the likes of you and Mary."

* * *

James was running behind schedule and he just _knew_ he would get it for showing up even five minutes late. He'd been doing such a good job at being punctual for his twice-weekly tutoring sessions with Lily, and three days ago she'd remarked that he'd become more responsible and mature, and now he was throwing it all away because of that stupid map.

He'd casually glanced at it like he always did before leaving his room, just to make sure that there wasn't anybody unsavory between him and his destination, and he'd noticed that, for the third time in the past month, Sirius and Mary were alone in a classroom. He was suspicious and intrigued, because Mary was quiet and studious and serious, while Sirius was, well, Sirius.

He spent a good fifteen minutes debating whether he should pop in and see what they were up to. They'd sworn when they created the map that they would _never_ use it to spy on one another, but something sketchy had to be going on for those two to willingly be spending time together. But would sating his curiosity be worth betraying his friends?

Upon deciding that it would not, in fact, be worth it, he realized he was supposed to have met Lily two minutes ago, which is why he found himself rushing to the library, something he'd never in his strangest dreams imagined he'd be doing.

As he got there, he almost smacked into Madam Welles, who was pulling Avery and Peter behind her. James suspected that Avery had tried to hex Peter, which was just low. Cursing Peter was like kicking a puppy. A puppy with two legs missing. Only the most evil people would ever even think about doing it.

"Sorry I'm late," he panted, embarrassed at how out of breath he sounded.

Rebecca took that as her cue to leave and returned to browsing the shelves for something helpful. "Huh? Oh. It's fine," Lily said distractedly.

Her eyes were puffy and her nose was pink and James deduced that she'd been crying. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great!" She crumpled up a piece of parchment and chucked it in the general vicinity of a wastebasket across the room.

He cringed at the obviously fake cheery tone, but didn't say anything more about it. A year ago, he would've immediately dove to catch and read whatever she was intent on throwing away, but they were actually getting to be friends now—she hadn't even chastised him for being late!—and he wasn't going to screw it up. Not on purpose, at least. "Alright, then. Last time, we covered changing the appearances of others. How confident are you in your abilities?"

She sighed. "Not very."

"You did great last time," he said encouragingly, impulsively reaching out and placing his hand on her arm. "You're a lot better than you give yourself credit for."

"You're just saying that," she mumbled.

"No I'm not," he disagreed. "Your biggest obstacle is your own head. You let yourself think you can't do it, so you can't. If I went into a Quidditch match thinking there was no chance in hell I'd score, then I'd be in a loser's mindset and I wouldn't score. Confidence is key, and we need to build yours up. Let's do something simple."

"Like what?" If it was, as he claimed, all a matter of confidence, then she was completely fucked.

"Transfigure that bug," he suggested, pointing at the small insect that was slowly crawling across the table.

"But we learned that _years_ ago."

"Exactly, and that's something you _know_ you can do. Just do it."

With another sigh, she flicked her wand and turned the bug into a button, something she hadn't thought about doing since her second year final exam.

"You did it!" he crowed, clapping his hands as though she'd actually accomplished something.

"I did the kind of Transfiguration a twelve year old could do."

"Which means you have the base knowledge. Now just try something more difficult. Change my hair color."

_"What?!"_

"You heard me," he said.

She hesitated. "But what if I mess up and hurt you?"

"Just do it, before I change my mind," he teased.

He was giving her the look his close friends knew well but that she'd never seen on him before, and something in his eyes told her that he absolutely believed in her and what did it matter if Petunia thought she was a freak when she had people like Rebecca and Mary and Marlene and Remus and even James on her side? She was a bloody _witch_ and she could do this. She waved her wand determinedly and yelped in astonishment as streaks of pale blonde appeared in his dark hair. "I did it!"

"Told you you could. But whatever you did to it, do you think you could un-Transfigure it for me? I'm rather attached to my hair, you see."

"How do I do that?"

"It's in my notes," he said, offering her a stack of parchment.

She preferred his notes to her own because his were so much clearer. He didn't just copy word for word what McGonagall said; since he understood it, he was able to just jot down the key parts of the lesson, whereas her notes were cluttered with incomprehensible nonsense about theories and the history of certain spells.

"Nice hair, Prongs."

Lily looked up from the notes on un-Transifguration and James looked away from Lily to see Sirius and Mary, the latter looking distraught.

"Is this permanent?" Sirius continued. "I hope it is, because that means I won't have to worry about any competition for best hair. It's automatically mine now."

"And out of all of the horrors in this world, not having the best hair at Hogwarts is certainly your number one concern," Mary grumbled. "Peter's in the Hospital Wing."

"What?" James shouted before remembering he was in the library and raising his voice about a whisper might get him strung up by his ankles for a week. But a scolding from Madam Welles never came; she wasn't back yet.

Sirius went from lighthearted to somber at once. "That's what we came to tell you. Avery hexed him."


	6. Rash Decisions

"Confusion, purple pustules that leave scars, inability to speak."

"Spattergroit," Mary said without pausing to think. "Come on, that one was too easy! _Everybody_ knows the symptoms of spattergroit."

"Not everyone. I just now heard of it."

"Well, you're...you. _Almost_ everybody knows the symptoms of spattergroit. Give me a harder one."

Sirius flipped through the pages of her enormous book of illnesses, stopping randomly. "Severe pain in neck, cold skin, sudden and insatiable appetite for blood."

She threw a quill at him. "Very funny," she snapped. "And those aren't the symptoms of a fresh bite from a vampire, just so you know." Despite her harsh tone, she was smiling.

"Why do you need to know all of this stuff?"

"I've told you," she said patiently. "The entrance exam—"

"For Healers is tough and only a quarter of the candidates pass," he recited. He'd heard her spiel about that exam countless times and knew it by heart. Well, he'd heard it four or five times. But it felt like a lot more. "I just don't see why you have to memorize this whole book. You're sixteen; it's not like you're taking the test tomorrow." And as he knew, the only acceptable time to study was the night before an exam. He'd made it this far using that technique exclusively, and he didn't see any need to change his tried and true method.

Mary shrugged. "I figure if I study as much as I can starting now, then I'll have a better chance. And I'm almost seventeen!" she added as an afterthought. "Besides, if I get these all out of the way now, then I can focus on diagnosing and reversing incorrectly performed curses, and you can't deny that that'll be a useful skill once we're outside the safety of school."

Sirius couldn't quite explain it, but he'd started to enjoy quizzing her over all of the maladies, and he was actually _glad_ when she mentioned that after she was sure she had every one of them committed to memory, she wanted to start learning the history of the illnesses. Of course, that meant perusing several more extensive volumes on diseases and cures and symptoms, which didn't hold his interest very well. But he didn't mind, not really. Even if it was turning him into a bit of a hypochondriac—every time he felt a random pain or itch, he suddenly had the need to self-diagnose—he liked being around somebody sensible every so often. It was a strangely welcome change of pace. So he scanned the page and read, "Itchy scalp, dry skin, and if left untreated, your hair starts to fall out."

"Doxy dandruff."

He turned the pages, looking for a difficult one to throw her off, because he was apparently going too easy on her. Either that or she was far too good at this.

_"Aaaaargh!"_

They both jumped at the noise emanating from the corridor. "That sounded like Peter."

Mary raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You can identify your friends based on their screams?"

* * *

Peter was tired of being underestimated.

His professors expected less of him than his peers—he often put in more work than James and Sirius combined and they were still expected to do better than him. True, he had to try a lot harder at most things to be on the same level as his friends, but it would be nice if once—just once!—Professor Drake didn't give him an uneasy look before he attempted a silent shield charm, or if Flitwick didn't feel the need to duck under his desk when he saw Peter waving his wand, or if Slughorn wasn't quite so cautious about breathing near Peter's cauldron. He just wanted one of them to treat him like a sixth year student, not a toddler who picked up a wand by mistake.

It was the price he paid for being a Pettigrew. His mother was a Squib and his father was a disgraced former employee of the Ministry; he never mentioned why he had been let go, but Peter knew there was a scandal of some sort, though he was very young when it happened. When he first arrived at Hogwarts, the older students—mostly sixth and seventh years—had recognized his name from the papers, and either resolutely avoided or coddled him. Neither reaction was welcome, because it set him apart from his classmates. From day one, the professors expected very little of him, and he spent most of his time trying desperately to prove himself.

He hadn't seen most of his extended family since before the scandal. His mother was from an old bloodline and had been banished for being a Squib, so he had never even met his grandparents or cousins or anyone from that side. His father, on the other hand, was so ashamed of what happened that he had purposefully exiled himself from his family. On the rare occasion that he saw his paternal grandparents, they always gave him this sad, pitying look, like they were just waiting for him to wake up one day and be just like his parents: disgraced and useless.

That wouldn't happen. He couldn't let that happen. He was already better than his mother, now he just had to defeat his father's reputation, so he could finally shake the low expectations that followed him wherever he went.

In the library, Avery hadn't seen him as a worthy opponent, hadn't thought of him as a threat. If James or Sirius or, hell, Remus had done the same, it would have been considered a fair match. None of them would have been treated like such a joke. He knew he shouldn't take to heart what Avery thought of him, but he was fed up with being underestimated and he wanted to prove what he was capable of.

Peter wrenched himself free of Madam Welles's firm grip and pointed his wand. _"Pustula!"_

* * *

"Blech!"

"Lily."

"_Blech!"_

"Lily!"

"Sorry, he just looks _disgusting__!"_

"I can hear you," Peter groaned, trying and failing to sit up.

"Sorry," Lily mumbled, color flooding her cheeks. When they'd arrived, his eyes were closed, so she had assumed he was sleeping. She wouldn't have been so vocal about her revulsion if she'd know. But still, _blech._ "Er, how are you?"

"I've been better," he said. That was certainly an understatement. Most of his visible skin was blistery and coated with a thick purple paste. He had bandages all over his face and neck, presumably to expedite the healing process. Lily's assessment of him wasn't entirely wrong. "How'd you get Pomfrey to let all of you in here at once? It's after nine, isn't it?" Nine p.m. was the cut-off for visitors, except for special occasions and emergencies. Since Peter would be back in class the following morning, this hardly counted as an emergency.

James and Sirius shared a knowing grin but said nothing, hoping Mary and Lily would do the same and keep quiet. Mary decided to let the blame fall on her. "I can be very persuasive when I need to be."

Sirius laughed and James shot him a suspicious look. He'd have to remember to ask about that later, but for now there were more pressing concerns. Specifically, what was Peter doing lying in a hospital bed? "When Remus gets here, you have to tell us what happened."

"I told you what happened," said Sirius. "Avery hexed him." Wasn't that obvious?

"Not exactly," Peter corrected.

Remus walked in with Rebecca and Marlene trailing after him. Rebecca's hair was bright orange, Peter's favorite color, and Marlene seemed relieved that he was okay. "I brought you something," he announced, tossing a bar of chocolate towards Peter, who couldn't even lift an arm, much less catch something. "Should've thought that through," he said, mostly to himself, as James snatched it just before it hit the floor. "So what happened?"

Peter took a few moments to shuffle and adjust himself until his head and shoulders were propped up and he could see all of them. He wasn't used to being the center of attention, the one with a captivating story to tell. "I was in the library and I saw Snape and Avery, and they were watching you and Rebecca," he said to Lily.

Rebecca shuddered. "Creepy," Marlene commented.

"I knew they were up to no good," he continued, and even as he said it, he hated how melodramatic he sounded. "So I kept my eye on them, and then Avery said he had a good shot from where he was, and he pulled out his wand to hex Lily, and I just kinda reacted and told him I wouldn't do that if I were him. I had my wand at his throat but then Madam Welles stopped me before I could _actually_ do anything." No need to inform them that he hadn't been planning on doing any harm in the first place.

"You stopped Avery from hexing her?" Remus asked seriously.

"Yes."

"We are talking about Orcus Avery, are we not?"

Mary chuckled. "His name is Orcus? Damn, I'd be cursing people too if that was my name."

"The one who—"

"I think that's enough," Sirius said sharply.

"—played an integral, albeit unknowing, part in the Great Restricted Section Debacle," Remus finished, smirking impishly at a furious Sirius before giving Peter a congratulatory smile.

"The very same," Peter said brightly. "So she was dragging us to Filch to do Merlin-knows-what with us, and I decided I'd had enough and that if I was going to get punished alongside him, I may as well make it worth it. I tried the first spell I could think of, but he was too quick. His Shield Charm is good, I'll give him that," he muttered bitterly. "So now here I am, covered with blisters for the next twenty-four hours."

"And then a rash for the next two to four days, depending on the intensity of the spell," Mary added before she could stop herself.

"Really?" asked Sirius. "Do you have _any_ self-control?"

"Evidently not," she replied with false misery. "I'm hopeless."

Lily stared at Peter. "He was going to curse me and you stopped him?"

He nodded. He couldn't help but notice that—save for Sirius and Mary, who were still bickering—his friends were all looking at him with admiration. Everyone around him wanted to know his story, and, unless he was severely misreading their expressions, they were impressed.

His friends were _impressed_ with something he had done.

For the first time, he had gone above and beyond what was expected of a Pettigrew.

His heart swelled with pride as Lily thanked him and Marlene said, "You're a true Gryffindor." This was surely the happiest he'd felt in a long, long time.

"If I never see that poltergeist again, it'll be—" Madam Pomfrey stopped midway through her rant when she caught sight of them. "What are you lot doing here? Out! Out!"

"See you tomorrow, Wormtail!" Sirius called over his shoulder as they left the room. "Hinting that Peeves should torment Poppy: not one of our best moments," he said mildly on the journey back to Gryffindor Tower.

"So _that's_ what you did. I wondered what could have kept her occupied for so long," Rebecca said.

"Peeves told her that a student was injured on the grounds, and she rushed right out to check," Lily explained, shaking her head. "I expected better of you, James."

"We were desperate," he complained. "We didn't have very long to come up with something elaborate and inspiring."

"I couldn't believe it," Mary added. "She's firm sometimes, but she's so nice to everyone. Leave it to Sirius to take advantage of that."

"Hey! At least I didn't start rattling off the lasting effects of the Blistering Jinx. That was hardly necessary," he retorted.

James nudged Lily with his elbow and glanced at the arguing pair before giving her the universal _what the hell?_ look. Lily shrugged and mouthed _who knows?_

What was happening? Peter was standing up to the Slytherins who had once made him cower with fear. Her Transfiguration skills were improving daily. Sirius and Mary had inside jokes, and she had just called James by his first name.

Who knows, indeed.

* * *

**Serious question:** what do people even use for the second-person plural? I know that it's highly unlikely that British teenagers were saying "y'all" all the time like I do, but what else is there to say when talking to a group of people? (Editing out southern dialect is so much fun, because I forget that other people don't use double modals. Sigh.)


	7. One Week

One week.

One week was all that stood in the way of freedom. One long, grueling, hellish week, and they would finally get the break they deserved.

"One more week," Lily said to herself as she took her seat in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What's that?" Mary asked, putting away her book.

"Nothing. Just the mantra that's going to get me through this week."

She gave her an encouraging smile. "At least the Transfiguration exam is tomorrow, so you can get it out of the way."

That did nothing to lift her spirits. If anything, it dampened them. "One more week, one more week, one more week," she whispered.

Professor Drake cleared her throat. "As I'm sure you all know, your exam for this class is on Wednesday. I'm going to consult with each of you privately to discuss what you need to improve on by then; in the meantime, I want you to pair up and practice." She peered over her cat-eye glasses at the room before selecting one of them. "Marlene, you first."

"Oi, Evans!" Sirius called.

"What is it?" she asked warily, already drifting towards Rebecca, her go-to for assignments like this.

Sirius grabbed her arm and led her to an unoccupied corner of the room. "Sorry, Kennings, she's mine today."

Lily caught James's eye and pouted, silently pleading for help, but he just laughed. "Sorry, there's no stopping Sirius."

Well, damn. One more week, one more week, one more week.

"Shouldn't you have partnered with James or Mary?"

Sirius flinched. "Why with Mary?"

"I dunno, you've just been spending a lot of time together lately reading up on boring medical stuff, so I thought you might have started studying more useful things. That's all." She shrugged. Not that being a Healer was useless; Lily just thought that, with the war waging, learning defense was more practical for day-to-day than knowing how to cure rare diseases.

"That's why I picked you, actually. Mary—is she seeing anybody?"

Lily laughed good-naturedly. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, I should've seen this coming."

"Why?" he asked again as Professor Drake called for Lula Abbott.

"Roommate's intuition," she joked before surprising him with a Jelly-Legs Curse.

He struggled to regain balance. "What was that for?" he yelped indignantly.

"Sorry," she said unapologetically. "Had to make it seem like we were actually doing work. She's not seeing anyone currently."

"Interesting. Know if she's interested in anybody?" He deftly deflected her next jinx.

"She hasn't mentioned anyone in particul-_agh!_" Lily pulled herself back to her feet and silently disarmed him. While he was fetching his wand, she mused, "If _you're_ interested in _her,_ I recommend that you wait until you're absolutely sure she reciprocates the feeling before you make any grand gestures. We wouldn't want a repeat of the Great Restricted Section Debacle."

"Certainly not," he agreed, then stopped. "How did you find out about that?"

"Word gets around," she said vaguely, watching as Professor Drake tried to comfort a Ravenclaw girl who had just burst into tears during their conference. While she felt bad for her, Lily couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't the only sixteen-year-old cracking.

"No, word doesn't get around. Not on this." He stepped closer and hissed, "I nearly got expelled for that. Dumbledore made us sign a secrecy contract, Evans. Nobody that was there—not even Madam Welles—is allowed to speak of it. _Ever._ He wasn't clear on the consequences, but I know that anybody who tells is going to regret it. So I ask again, _how do you know?_"

"I read the report," she confessed. "I got bored and thought your file would be entertaining. I just didn't realize how extensive it was. I spent about four hours reading through it. You've had a _lot_ of detentions."

"How did you get my file?" He had to sign something saying he wouldn't mention it, yet the report was just lying around where any nosy prefect could find it? Dumbledore was such an enigma.

She grinned. "Prefects can get away with more than you think," she explained.

"You—"

"Black, you're up!" Professor Drake barked.

Mary edged towards her. "So what did he want?"

"Nothing, really," Lily replied airily. "Just asking whether he should propose to you on a beach or mountaintop."

* * *

The Transfiguration exam was surprisingly simple and straightforward, with questions that covered exactly what Lily had spent all night studying for. It was a goddamn miracle. She excitedly wrote down her answers, confident that she knew all of it. She was the first one finished, but when she went to hand it to Professor McGonagall, she asked if she'd answered the question on the back.

Cautiously, Lily turned it over and saw just one last question: _Describe, precisely, how one would unTransfigure black eyelashes that were mistakenly lightened._

UnTransfiguration. She and James had discussed the method for ages. She knew this. She _knew_ this. You started by—

She didn't know this.

"Lily!"

Somebody was shaking her.

"Five more minutes," she mumbled sleepily, not raising her head from the table.

"You don't _have_ five more minutes," Remus said, jostling her shoulder again in an attempt to get her to move.

She sat up slowly, cracking her shoulders and trying to recall the dream she'd had. Something about eyelashes... "Sure I do. It's only... what time is it, exactly?"

He tugged on her arm, forcing her to stand. "Quarter till ten."

Lily stared at him incredulously. "And you didn't think to wake me until _just_ _now_?" she wailed, looking around in a frenzy. "Where's my quill?"

"Come on, I've got an extra. We're going to be late."

They left the Common Room, with her still grumbling about how long she'd been allowed to sleep. "I only meant to rest my eyes for a little while. I was just so tired. Marlene said she'd wake me up in ten minutes, but she didn't."

"She tried. You wouldn't budge, so we collectively decided that you needed sleep."

"I could have been studying!" she exclaimed. "All night, you just let me _sleep,_ when there were better things I could've been doing."

"Relax, will you? You'll do fine."

* * *

She'd made it. The week was nearly done, and the only thing left for Lily to do was her final round before the Christmas holiday. It was a low-key evening, with the majority of the students in their dormitories packing and preparing to go home, or spending time with friends they wouldn't see for a few weeks. She strolled leisurely through the castle, not being as thorough as she normally would as she peeked into classrooms and cupboards at random. The likelihood of any mischief-making was slim.

Just as she was finishing up, satisfied that she wouldn't have to write any incident reports, Lily heard the unmistakeable sound of two spells clashing.

_Seriously?_

She hurried down the corridor until she found the source of the noise. Sirius and Mulciber were ten feet apart from each other, wands raised, while Mary stood by the wall, looking petrified.

_Honestly?_

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Neither of them saw Lily until their wands were sailing into her hand. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

"He tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Mary," Sirius shouted furiously.

"Again?!"

_Really?_

"The Macdonalds are blood traitors," Mulciber roared. "They'll pay for their sins against our world!" He laughed callously. "Delphine already did."

"Don't you _dare!"_ Mary shrieked, lunging for him. Sirius reached out and caught her around the waist.

"Mary, he's not worth it."

"That's rich, coming from _you,_ Black," he sneered, watching Mary thrashing, trying to worm her way out of Sirius's grasp. "Maybe you'll go the same way as dear Delphine Macdonald."

"You fucking _monster,_" she cried, startling both Lily and Sirius, who had never heard her say anything more severe than _damn._

"Who's a monster?"

Lily breathed a sigh of relief. The commotion had finally come to someone else's attention. Professor Drake took in the scene. "Sirius, if you could let go of Miss Macdonald, please?"

"I really don't think that's wise," Sirius said hurriedly. "But if you insist..."

"I do," she said firmly.

The second he released her, Mary pulled an arm back and punched Mulciber in the jaw with all the strength she could muster, smiling with grim satisfaction when he staggered backward. Professor Drake turned to Lily. "What happened here?"

"To the best of my knowledge," she replied, trying to sound unbiased. "Mulciber tried to use an Unforgivable Curse on Mary, and Sirius jumped in to defend her." She handed over their wands. "I disarmed them as soon as I saw."

"That'll do. As we have no proof that an Unforgivable Curse was attempted, I can only assign detention for dueling. Both of you will serve two Saturdays next month."

Lily frowned. Dueling and detention meant paperwork. So much for a low-key evening.

"Corvus, please return to your Common Room. Mary, a word?"

Mulciber stalked off, while Lily and Sirius hung back to hear what she had to say to Mary. She didn't seem to mind their presence. "Delphine and I were close up until the end."

"I know," Mary said quietly. "I think I remember you dropping by when I was little."

"I'm sure she would be very proud of you. You're a dedicated student. Not like we were," she laughed. "I think we ditched Herbology more than we attended." She smiled fondly, momentarily lost in the past. "But Mary, I don't think she would want you resorting to violence, not even on her behalf."

"Okay." She didn't say anything more, because what else _could_ she say?

Lily put a comforting hand on Mary's shoulder. "C'mon, let's go."

* * *

"—hit him right in the face! _In front of a professor._"

Peter stared at Mary in awe. "That's amazing!"

Mary shook her head. "Sirius, you're making it out like I did something incredible. All I did was give him a reaction."

"The bloody best reaction I've ever seen!"

"Look, can we stop talking about it?" she snapped, crossing her arms tightly across her chest and staring out the window at the darkening sky.

Sirius opened his mouth, but a harsh look from Lily shut him up.

Trying to skim over the awkward silence, Peter asked, "Where are Rebecca and Marlene?"

"They're staying," said Lily. "Bex says she feels safer at Hogwarts, and Marlene just didn't feel like going home."

"What about you, then?" inquired Remus. "I know you don't much like going home."

"It is what it is. I'm sure Petunia will be delighted to see me," she laughed. "But it'll be nice to see Mum and Dad and Mia."

"Mia, she's the one from your Muggle pictures, right?"

Lily nodded. "I hardly see her anymore, but we were best friends when we were younger. They live next door to us, so our families usually have Christmas dinner together."

"Well," James chimed in. "If you get bored with your family and pictures that don't even move, you're welcome to spend some of the holiday at my place."

She had no idea what to say to that. "Er..."

"I always invite my friends over," he explained quickly, his face reddening. "It gets kind of lonely with just me and my parents. So, uh—"

Sirius came to his rescue. "You haven't experienced Christmas until you've celebrated it with the Potters."

"Anyway, I just thought I'd offer. Seeing as we're friends and a Muggle Christmas can't be all that exciting."

"Well, thanks for the offer. I'll let you know if it gets dreadfully boring."

She thought about his words, _I always invite my friends over. Seeing as we're friends..._

Lily realized that James considered her a friend.

Not just that—_she_ considered _him_ a friend.


	8. Christmas Lights Reflect in Your Eyes

"You're a witch."

"Well," Lily huffed, smiling all the same. "That's hardly a way to greet a friend you haven't seen in months." She fully opened the door and let Amelia Willis into her home. "Whatever did I do to deserve that?"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." She went straight for the kitchen, rooting around until she found a suitable breakfast: an apple and a glass of water.

"I'm not sure that I do," said Lily, raising an eyebrow.

"You're a witch. A real one. Artemis told me."

_Who the hell is Artemis?_ "Mia, we're obviously not on the same page, so why don't you have a seat and tell me what, exactly, you're talking about?"

Rather than expend any effort walking out of the room, she plopped down on the floor, patting the space in front of her in invitation for Lily to join her. "I met him during the summer," she began, chomping noisily on the apple. "And, well, not to be overly dramatic, but it was love at first sight."

Lily snorted. "But that's not dramatic, right?" She didn't quite see how this related at all to her being a witch of any sort.

"We spent so much time together, but at the end of August, he told me he had to go back to school soon, and I asked where he went. He told me it was Hogwarts—and I remembered you mentioning it a long time ago!—and I asked if he knew you, and he said he knew of you, so I asked what kind of school it is, since you've always been so bloody secretive."

Artemis, Artemis, Artemis... It still wasn't registering. _Who_ was he?

"And then—for what must've been the hundredth time—he told me he loved me, and he asked if I could keep a secret."

No. He _didn't._

"He told me that there were witches and wizards living all over the world, and that he was one, and you are too. Naturally, I thought he was joking, but then he pulled this—this _stick_ out and proved it."

Merlin.

Amelia was beautiful, sure, with her huge brown eyes and annoyingly perfect dark hair and coffee skin, but was she really worth breaching the International Statute of Secrecy?

"He explained that people like me—Muggles, he called us, I think—aren't supposed to even know of your existence, except for in very special circumstances. Like your parents, they _had_ to know, because of you."

"And why did he tell you?" Lily asked tightly.

"Because, well..." She trailed off with a slightly smug smile before thrusting her left hand in Lily's face.

"You're _engaged?_"

"Yes!" Mia squealed excitedly. "We've been writing to each other since September, and he visited last night and asked! Isn't is beautiful?" She sighed contentedly, admiring the glistening ring.

"It, it certainly is." Amelia was only a year older than her, and she was engaged. Lily couldn't imagine getting married so young.

"I can't say I was surprised, you know. About you, I mean. I was embarrassed I hadn't suspected it sooner. You have a pet owl, for Christ's sake!"

Lily couldn't help but laugh, softening as she recovered from the initial shock. "So, tell me more about Artemis."

"His last name is Abbott. He's in, um, I think he called it _slithering,_ or something."

"He's a _Slytherin?!"_

* * *

"How are your classes going, dear?" Mrs. Evans asked casually over dinner that night.

"Transfiguration is tough, but other than that, I'm doing fine." Lily always felt odd discussing school with her parents, like she was combining two worlds that needn't be mixed. Sometimes, she wished that they wouldn't bring it up at all, but what kind of parent didn't ask how their child's grades were holding up? It was for their benefit that she elaborated, "Slughorn still loves me. And Professor Drake—she's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—is really nice." She wracked her brain, trying to think of an amusing anecdote to share with them. "Oh! And the other day, Flitwick was demonstrating a charm for us, and he was so enthusiastic that he toppled over." The whole class had snickered, though they felt guilty about it.

Her parents didn't understand what was so amusing about it. Right, they'd never seen Professor Flitwick. If they had, maybe they'd be able to picture it. "He's about two feet tall," she explained. "So he was standing on a stack of books, and, well, never mind," she mumbled.

"Petunia has some exciting news, don't you?" her father said, smiling fondly at his daughters.

"Dad!" Petunia hissed, shooting Lily a sideways look.

"What?" he asked obliviously. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"She's met someone," her mother gushed, unable to hold it in any longer.

"Mum!" But she smiled. "His name is Vernon, and he's just _wonderful._ So normal and stable."

Lily's first thought was _who names their child Vernon?_

And then she laughed, because she went to school with people named Sirius and Remus, and her professors were named things like Minerva and Filius, but she thought _Vernon_ was a strange name.

Petunia's laugh faded and she narrowed her eyes. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just, nothing."

"You think the idea of somebody normal is _funny?_"

"Petunia," Mr. Evans said firmly. "We talked about this."

She ignored him. "Well, lucky for _you,_ you don't have to meet him!"

Lily checked the clock. They'd made it fourteen minutes into a meal before an outburst. That was possibly a new record. She pushed away from the table. "That was delicious, Mum," she said kindly, turning and going to her room.

Lily loved her family, she really did. But she felt so disconnected from them. She had this whole other life that they weren't a part of, and as much as she tried to include them—with her stories and letters—they would only ever be spectators. And, as she spent most of the year away from home, a large part of their life was separate from her. She didn't know until a few minutes earlier, for instance, that her mother had finally perfected her recipe for chocolate cake. And she certainly didn't know that her sister was seeing someone. The little things were falling through the cracks, even though she wrote to her parents regularly, and she worried that there would come a day when they wouldn't have anything left to talk about, no common ground beneath them.

Impulsively, though she would later realize she'd been considering it all day, she reached for a quill and parchment and quickly scrawled a short letter:

_Changed my mind. You were right about Muggle Christmas, I guess. If the offer still stands, I'd like to spend the holiday at your place._

_Lily_

"C'mere, Selene," she cooed softly, stroking the tiny grey owl's feathers. "Can you take this to James Potter?"

* * *

Lily awoke to a piercing shriek.

After briefly considering ignoring it and going back to sleep, she got up and made her way out of her room to find Petunia on the couch, hand over her mouth and eyes wide.

An all-too-familiar mop of dark hair was the next thing she saw—James was crawling on the floor, apparently searching for something.

Lily spotted what he was looking for and dangled it in front of him. "Looking for these?"

He jumped. "Oh, thank _Merlin,_ I'm so glad to see you!" he rejoiced, standing and brushing himself off before taking the glasses from her. He took in her disheveled appearance and figured she must've just rolled out of bed. "I was worried I had the wrong house, and nobody at the Ministry wants to deal with this sort of thing around Christmas. Or ever, for that matter." He glanced at Petunia, who hadn't moved. "Who's that? She screamed when I got here, and I got scared that it wasn't actually your house, so I panicked." He wanted to make sure she knew that he didn't always fall over and lose his glasses when he traveled by the Floo Network.

"My sister. What are—"

"Your _sister?_" he interrupted. "But you— I mean, there's no resemblance."

"What are you _doing_ here?"

"I'm rescuing you, of course! You said you wanted to come over."

"A warning would've been nice," she chastised. "I'm not exactly ready to leave." She hadn't expected him to just show up immediately after receiving her note, but she couldn't say she was surprised.

He clapped his hands. "Well, get to it! We haven't got all day!"

God damn it, his grin was infectious. "Let me get my stuff together. And I should probably tell my parents I'm leaving."

"It's rather early to just burst in and—" He stopped and laughed, realizing that was exactly what he did to her. "Can I tell them? Can I, can I, can I?" he asked excitedly.

"Er, sure?" She led the way down the short hallway, stopping at her door. "That's their room," she told him, pointing.

She changed quickly and threw her belongings in a bag. She couldn't believe that she was up this early so she could _willingly_ go spend time with Potter and his mates. Perhaps she needed to visit Madam Pomfrey when she returned to school.

When she emerged from her bedroom, Petunia was still frozen in the same spot, staring at the fireplace as though she expected more wizards to spring from it. Her parents were laughing at something James said—of course he'd charmed them as soon as he introduced himself.

"Have a good Christmas, Lily," her mother said warmly. It hadn't taken long for him to convince them to let her go. Maybe they, too, thought it would be easier on everyone if she wasn't there. Not that they didn't _want_ her there, of course; it was just always difficult to have her and Petunia in the same room. The summer would be better, when she could spend more time with her parents without her sister, who planned to travel for most of July and August, but for now, everybody seemed to agree that her going to James's house was the best solution.

"Are you sure you don't mind my going?" she asked anyway, because she didn't want them to think she was so eager to get away.

"Of course not, sweetie. We'll see you this summer."

"Well, okay." The lack of hesitation from either parent absolved her of any guilt she may have felt about running out on them. "Let's go?"

James dug in his pocket for Floo Powder, tossing it into the fire. "It was a pleasure meeting you," he said sincerely, taking Lily's bag. She waved goodbye and they stepped into the green flames. _"Potter manor."__  
_

Traveling by Floo was one of the few things Lily thought she might never get used to. There was always a part of her that feared she would get burnt or inhale smoke and ashes or—even worse—she'd stumble out of the wrong fireplace. The thought of it made her shudder as they spun, and it was an understatement to say she was relieved when they stopped.

"This is it," he said, a little awkwardly, gesturing dramatically with his hand.

She simply stared, speechless. The sitting room alone was half the size of her entire house. At the back of the room, there was, of course, a spiral staircase that went higher than she could see. Feeling she should at least say _something,_ she stammered, "It's, it's n-nice."

"I think _extravagantly superfluous_ is the phrase you're looking for," came the jocular voice of Sirius as he entered.

"I, no, that's not it. It's just— Dear _Merlin,_ it's huge." She shook her head, knowing she was being rude. It was hard, though, to wrap her head around this. She was accustomed to her tiny, reasonably-sized home.

"Er, would you like the tour?"

She shrugged. "Why not?" A tour might come in handy; she'd hate to get lost.

"Well then, Miss Evans, follow me." They started up the staircase, and as soon as they were out of Sirius's earshot, he mumbled, "I liked your house, you know."

Lily laughed. "You don't have to say that. It's fine." It really was. Her house wasn't anything special—sure, it was home, and _she_ loved it, but that didn't mean it was impressive or that anybody else was obligated to like it. It was positively mundane.

"No, really," he said earnestly. "It was _perfect._ It was just the right size. This place, it's _nice,_ but it's too big for just me and my parents and Sirius. We have twelve guest bedrooms. Those were through the doors on either side downstairs, by the way."

They were near the top when she commented suspiciously, "I thought you were giving me a tour. Why've we skipped everything?"

"I've got something to show you first." They went through a door at the end of the corridor. "This is my room," he added unnecessarily.

"You don't say," she teased, eyeing the Quidditch posters and Gryffindor banner and red walls. The room absolutely _screamed_ James Potter. "So what did you want to show me?"

He reached under his bed, retrieving a clumsily-wrapped present. Suddenly, he thought that maybe it wasn't such a good idea. He hadn't actually expected her to change her mind and visit, but he'd gotten it just in case. "Erm, it's kind of stupid, but I got you a present."

Shit. She hadn't even _thought_ to get him anything. She was the worst guest. "I didn't—"

"Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal, trust me." He didn't say it out loud—given that it was unbearably corny—but her being there was the best gift she could've given him.

Lily unwrapped it and burst out laughing. "You don't let anything go, do you?"

"Like I said, it's stupid. I just thought—"

"No, no, James, I love it!"

It was a stuffed squid.

* * *

Later, after Remus arrived, the four of them were sitting in front of the fireplace when Lily asked the others, "What do you know about the Abbotts?"

Sirius wrinkled his nose and James frowned. That was all the answer she needed. "Most of them run with my family," Sirius said bitterly. "There's a few good ones, of course, but for the most part, they're not the nicest bunch. Why?"

"My friend Mia is engaged to Artemis Abbott, and she said he's in Slytherin, and I was hoping that maybe they weren't awful."

"Oh!" Sirius brightened at once. "Artemis is alright. He and his sister Lula both got disowned a while ago. She's a Ravenclaw and she was fraternizing with too many Muggle-borns, and he rejected all of their ideals about blood purity. He's not bad, especially for a Slytherin."

Remus added, "Lula is really nice. You wouldn't know she was an Abbott by the way she acts."

Lily's mind was put at ease. "So he's a good one?"

"Evans, he got kicked out of his family two years ago and he proposed to a Muggle. I'd say he's decent," Sirius assured her.

James had been strangely silent for the past few minutes, just watching his friends with a smile on his face. He could see the lights reflecting in Lily's bright green eyes, and as she laughed and talked animatedly with Sirius and Remus, he realized something:

He was, without a doubt, in love with her.


	9. Automatic Doors

It was the last day of the year, and the castle was nearly empty, save for a handful of students and professors.

Persephone Drake sat at her desk, turning a thin metal bracelet over and over in her hands, as though she hoped that each time she saw the tiny ruby, something would have changed. But it was always the same bracelet, and had been for two decades. It was one of the few things that hadn't changed a bit over time.

There was a soft knock at her door. "Come in," she said quietly, still staring resolutely at the bracelet.

Professor Knight pushed the door open and poked her head in. "Just checking in, dear. You weren't at breakfast."

Persephone almost cracked a smile. "You can sit down, if you'd like."

She accepted the offer and slowly walked over, taking a seat. "Are you alright? I know today must be hard on you."

"Prof— Clara," she corrected. She was still getting used to calling the woman who had been her favorite professor when _she_ was at Hogwarts by her first name. It seemed almost disrespectful. "It's not fair."

"I know," she agreed sadly, her thin fingers tying into knots in her lap.

"It's been eight years, and I still can't let it go. It feels like it happened yesterday, not thousands of days ago. Will it _ever_ get easier?"

"Truthfully, no," Clara admitted. "Days will come where it hurts a little less, but it's hard to get closure in a situation like this. It's always going to sting."

She was quiet for a long time, and when she finally looked up, there were tears in her eyes. "Do you remember when you read our palms for us in fifth year? We'd just taken our O.W.L.s and you did it as a treat. You told her—you said that she would live a _long life,_ Professor. You were _certain_ of it!"

"I'm sorry," the old woman whispered. "I—"

"But," she interrupted. "You told us that we both had indicators of future hardship. Is this what you meant?" She shook her head. "We got matching bracelets. Right after our last day here, we went out and bought these bracelets. I got her one with a sapphire for Ravenclaw, and she got this one for me. Ruby, for Gryffindor. Each other's houses, you know. So that, even if we didn't see each other for long stretches of time, we always knew the other was wearing theirs, so in a way, we were never too far apart. She was my _best friend."_

"When was the last time you went to see her?"

"A couple years ago. I keep planning to go, but I can't, it's just too painful."

"I think it's time you paid her a visit."

* * *

This was, perhaps, the best Christmas holiday Lily had had in a while, though she would never admit it.

The Potter manor was like the palace she'd dreamed of when she was young. Five floors, each with long hallways and enormous windows. There were sprawling grounds behind it, complete with rings reminiscent of the ones found on the Quidditch pitch. They _did_ have house-elves, something she wasn't sure yet how she felt about, but as a whole, she found that she enjoyed the house.

James's parents were older than hers by several years, and they were so sweet to her. His father seemed genuinely interested in Muggle things, and his mother had been delighted to show Lily the library, where she immediately pointed out the extensive collection of books on Transfiguration. "James mentioned you were struggling in that class, so feel free to borrow any of these that you think might help," she'd said.

Lily should have been upset with him for telling his parents that, but she was so overwhelmed and grateful that anger was nearly impossible. The Potters were genuinely _good_ people. They'd taken in Sirius, they were—as far as she could tell—kind to their house-elves, and they vocally opposed _him_ and everything he stood for._  
_

"You know," she remarked to Remus as they helped in the kitchen. "I reckon I might just marry him, just because of his parents."

"I heard that," James grumbled while Remus laughed.

Sirius, who was lounging in a chair and watching the others work, said, "Hey, it's better than nothing, isn't it?"

"If the only reason a girl wants to marry me is because she _likes my parents,_ I think I'd rather die alone."

Lily smiled. "Well, I hope you're not after a girl who hates your parents, because that'll be hard to find."

He gave her an unreadable look. "No, I don't think that's what I want at all."

Sirius rolled his eyes, because he knew what James meant and what Lily was somehow unaware of.

There was a tap at the window. Lily abandoned the carrots to let in Selene, who had a scrap of notebook paper. She'd written a letter home the day before, updating her parents and letting them know that she was having a good time, and asking how their holiday was.

Her mother's usually pristine script was sloppy and rushed; this should have tipped her off that something was very wrong.

_Lily,_

_Your father has had a heart attack. It doesn't look good. Come as soon as you can._

* * *

"Dad, I can't do this."

Mr. Macdonald put a gentle hand on his daughter's shoulder. "You say that every year, sweetie."

"And you always make me do it anyway," she said dully.

"You'd regret it if you didn't." He didn't tell her that without her there, he himself might not be able to do it. He depended on her more than she would ever know. But he was her father and he was supposed to put up a strong front, so he acted as though _he_ was there for _her,_ which he was, of course, but she was there for him just as much, if not more. She just didn't know it.

They walked through the sliding glass doors and Mary immediately took a seat, staring with glistening eyes at the slim brunette lying in the bed. She grasped her hand tightly. "Hi Mum," she said in a broken voice.

The woman, of course, did not answer. Her eyes remained closed, as they had for years, but Mary still talked to her, on the off-chance she could hear her. "I miss you. I, I just want you to come back. _Please,_" she sobbed.

"Tell her about school. Just talk like you would normally," her father said soothingly. He always had to walk her through it at first.

She took a steadying breath and wiped her eyes. "I'm doing really well in my classes. I'm going to be a Healer someday, Mum, and maybe I can find a cure, or at least learn what exactly happened to you. I've been studying _really _hard. I want to make you proud." Once she got started, it came naturally, like she really was having a conversation with her mother. "I've been spending a lot of time with Sirius Black. I think you knew the Blacks, didn't you? They're all pretty rotten, but Sirius is nice. He's a lot like you and Dad. He's been helping me study for the entrance exam. Oh! I punched Corvus Mulciber in the face. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. He deserved it."

Across from her, Mr. Macdonald frowned. He hadn't heard about that yet. It sometimes concerned him that Mary talked more freely to her comatose mother than she did to him.

"He was insulting you, Mum. He's, he's _Carina's_ son! He _knows_ what happened. What was I supposed to do? But besides that, everything is going well. We have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor again. She's your friend who used to visit sometimes, and I think she was in your wedding. She's very nice, but she always looks so _sad._ I guess that's it. I miss you," she repeated, leaning over to kiss her mom's forehead. "Your turn," she said softly, getting up and leaving so he could have a few minutes alone with his wife.

On her way out, she ran right into Professor Drake.

"Mary!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright. What are you doing here?" As soon as the words left her mouth she realized that she sounded rude. It was, after all, none of her business why her professor was at St. Mungo's. "I mean—"

"I'm actually here to visit your mother."

Oh. "Dad's talking to her now, but you can go in in a minute."

Persephone took a deep breath. After her conversation with Clara, she had decided what she was going to do. "I have something for you."

Mary didn't respond.

She slowly slid her bracelet off. "Your mother and I bought these for each other after we graduated. She gave me one with a ruby because she was a Gryffindor. She was always true to the traits of a Gryffindor: brave and courageous and loyal. She would've done anything for her friends and family. I think it's time you had this." She handed it to Mary.

"Are you sure?" she asked, cautiously taking it from her. When Professor Drake nodded, she slipped it onto her wrist.

"Are you taking Divination?"

What a strange question. Mary laughed. "Of course not!"

"You should talk to Professor Knight sometime. She was Delphine's favorite professor. I'm sure she could tell you stories about her. You look a lot like her. Your mother, not professor Knight. Same face and everything."

Mary smiled. That was one of the best compliments she could get. "Thank you."

* * *

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," Lily said.

James had asked her if she could Apparate with Lily to the hospital the minute she told him what the letter said, and his mother had happily obliged. They were standing in a patch of trees near the entrance. "It was no trouble. I hope everything works out." She gave Lily a quick hug, and then she was gone.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a hospital, and she approached the front desk with trepidation. "I'm here to see Charles Evans." She consulted the short note from her mother. "Room four-seventeen."

The woman smiled sadly at her and handed over a green wristband. And then Lily was running, past the lift because she didn't have time to waste waiting for it, up three flights of stairs, and down the corridor, only slowing down to give the automatic doors at the front of the ward time to open. She skidded to a halt when she saw her mother and sister sitting in a waiting area.

"How is he?" she asked, joining them.

Petunia sniffed. "They took him to an operating room. They haven't said much."

_I should have been there,_ she thought. She should have been at home with her family, not gallivanting with the Potters. She hadn't even said a proper goodbye; she'd been _so_ eager to get out. "How did this _happen?_"

Mrs. Evans twisted her wedding band anxiously, eyes fixed on the ugly grey walls. "We were eating, and he suddenly put a hand on his chest, and I—I thought he was _joking. _You know how he is. He finds the most inappropriate things funny. But then he fell out of his chair, and, well..." She trailed off, because ending that sentence seemed unnecessary.

"He's going to be okay, though?" Lily asked. Neither of them gave an answer. "He's not even fifty! Young people don't die from heart attacks. He'll be fine," she decided.

"Lily," said Petunia. "I admire your optimism, but you must be realistic. There's a very real chance he won't make it."

"Don't say that!" Petunia was such a _downer,_ and she always had to be right. Because she was older, she thought she knew more than Lily. But that wasn't true. Not now. "He's going to make it. I _know_ it." She was so confident and sure that her sister didn't argue.

Petunia knew that the odds weren't in their favor. While she didn't like that fact, she had accepted it because that's the way life worked. Sometimes, the people you loved were taken from you at inopportune times and it was horrible but there was no use dwelling on it. Her father lived a very happy and content life, even if it was cut short. And she would have to find a way to make peace with that.

One of the doctors came through the automatic doors and walked towards them. His expression said it all. "I'm so sorry," he murmured. "We did everything we could."

Lily leapt up. "What do you mean?"

"He's gone."


	10. I'm fine

"Lily, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," she said harshly, instantly regretting it. She'd, understandably, been a bit on edge. "Sorry. I'm fine," she tried again, her voice much softer. "Thanks for being here. You didn't have to come."

Rebecca smiled. "Like hell, we didn't." Lily had written her a letter explaining what had happened, and she and Marlene had gone to Professor McGonagall at once to see about arranging a trip to the Evans residence. She had obliged, of course, and sent with them her condolences. They wanted to be sure that their friend _knew_ they were there for her, despite the fact that she was stubbornly trying to act like nothing was wrong. "Do you need anything?"

Lily shook her head, even though she _did_ need something. What she needed now, more than anything, was for her dad to walk through the door and give her a hug and tell her it was going to be just fine. He would brush her hair behind her ear and kiss her forehead like he had when she was a child, and she would say _'I love you, Daddy,'_ and everything would be okay again. That was all she wanted, and it was something she could never have again.

It was sinking in that all of the things she had taken for granted were _gone._ His voice, the way he spoke quickly when he was enthusiastic about something, how he ended most sentences like a question. His laugh and his terrible jokes and bad puns and how he could find humor in anything. All of his goofy scarves and dorky clothes. How he always got up early on Sundays and made breakfast and she positively _lived_ for Sundays when she was home.

She couldn't look in the mirror anymore because she had his eyes and his nose and she couldn't believe she'd never noticed it before, but now all she saw in her reflection was her father and it was too much and not enough at the same time. There was just enough of him in her face to notice but too little to make her feel better. His doctor had said to her, _You have his eyes,_ and Lily was sure that it was meant to be kind but it just made her feel sick.

"Can you give me a moment?" she gasped, as it all hit her again. She wanted to be alone in her room while she tried to compose herself. The funeral was in two hours and she was nowhere near ready to go see him for the last time.

Her friends looked concerned, but they honored her request and left.

He was gone. Her dad, the hero of her childhood, was gone and he wasn't coming back and it wasn't fair. He was kind and loved everyone. He had believed in her when she'd had very little faith in herself; when Lily got her letter from Hogwarts, he told her how he'd always known she was special and this just proved it, and then when she worried that she wouldn't be as good as the others, he promised her that she would be even _better_. He was strong and invincible and young and he told them he would always be there for them, so why wasn't he?

Why did he have to go so soon? It was so sudden and it wasn't fucking _fair._ He was supposed to be around for years and years. He wouldn't be there to walk his daughters down the aisle one day, or see Lily graduate from Hogwarts, or celebrate birthdays, or cook breakfast on Sundays, or anything. He'd died on the evening of the thirty-first, so he hadn't even lived to see a new year.

She wasn't naive enough to believe that her parents would live forever. But she had always assumed that, when they _did_ pass, she would be in her forties, at the very least. She would be old enough to handle it because they would be older and and it wouldn't be such a shock. This, though, was the last thing she had expected.

And she wasn't _there!_ That was tearing her up inside. The last time she saw her father, she'd simply waved and hopped into the fire. She was so_ selfish!_ She saw Potter and his crew for most of the year, but she only got to see her family during holidays. Even though it was tough to find things they had in common, she should have tried harder. She should have looked for good conversation starters and stayed with them, because she would have gotten a few more days with her dad.

That's the thing, though—if she had known, Lily would have stayed home and spent every waking moment with him, listening to his stories, talking about anything and everything with him, and taken countless pictures. She would have made sure those last few days counted. But there was no way of knowing, or predicting this would happen. He hadn't been sick, and they all thought he was healthy, and for the most part, he was. His heart had just quit working out of nowhere, and all of the air was sucked from her lungs because her father was a symbol of love and he was snatched away, _just like that._

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," she said, expecting Bex or Marlene to be checking on her.

Instead, it was Petunia who walked in and sat on Lily's bed.

"I have something for you," she whispered, offering a grey and red scarf.

Lily took it, recognizing it as their father's favorite. She pressed her face against it, breathing in the familiar scent: soap and a spice she was never able to identify. It was comforting because it smelled like him and reminded her of when she was little and he would wrap her in his coat when she got too cold. And then she was crying. "I didn't get to say goodbye! I didn't get to tell him I loved him! What if—what if Daddy died not knowing that I love him?"

"He knew you loved him, Lily. Don't even say something like that. He loved you so, _so_ much, and he knew you loved him just as much." With slight hesitation, for the first time in a very long time, Petunia wound her arms tightly around her younger sister. "It's going to be okay."

* * *

During the funeral, Marlene kept a careful eye on Lily, worried she might break down at any instant. She'd been mysteriously dry-eyed, though, and that frightened her far more than any amount of tears ever could. Even when she got up and talked about her dad, she didn't shed a tear. She actually _smiled._ She cracked a joke and seemed far too calm about it.

Afterwards, she discussed this with Rebecca. "What do you think of this whole thing?" she muttered, helping Mrs. Evans in the kitchen.

"I thought it was a nice service," Rebecca replied, setting out snacks for the guests. She found it boggling that anybody would want to gather together and _eat_ after watching their loved one lowered into the ground, but to each their own.

"Not that! _Lily,"_ she hissed, though the redhead was nowhere to be seen. "I'm worried about her."

"Why? She's handling it all very well." She busied herself with washing dishes. "Give yourself a break," she insisted, shooing away Mrs. Evans. "We've got this."

"You girls are the sweetest," she said, accepting the offer. "Lily is lucky to have you." And then she disappeared to mingle with her husband's family, leaving Marlene and Rebecca alone to freely discuss her daughter.

"That's just it," Marlene argued. "She's so put-together, like she's in denial or something. At Joseph's funeral, I was a _wreck!_ I cried through the whole thing, and—"

"No," she interrupted. "You're just projecting. You were _twelve_ when your brother died, Marly. Of course you cried! But Lily's sixteen."

"So? You turned sixteen in April. Didn't your grandfather die over the summer?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that's got to do with anything."

"How did you react?" she pressed.

Rebecca frowned. "I locked myself in my room and didn't come out for two days; I didn't even eat. But everyone reacts to death differently."

Marlene left under the guise of switching out one of the plates of food, and saw Lily chatting with a group of people. She was the life of the party. She reported back to Rebecca with what she'd seen. "Isn't it a little odd that she's not the least bit hysterical? Hell, Mary cries _every year_ on her mum's birthday."

"Mary's mum isn't dead," Rebecca said quietly.

"What do you mean? Of course she's dead! She—"

Rebecca shook her head. "Didn't you know? The _Prophet_ reported on it for days."

"When did it happen?"

"About eight years ago."

"Bex, I'm muggle-born," she reminded her patiently. "If it happened eight years ago, I don't know about it."

"Right, sorry. You'll have to ask her about it sometime. It's not really my story to tell. Regardless, just let Lily deal with this in her own way."

"But she's not dealing with it!" Marlene protested.

"Leave it," she commanded as Lily made her way into the kitchen.

"Leave what?" asked Lily, reaching for a clean glass.

"Nothing," they said simultaneously.

She chose to brush it off, filling the glass with water slowly. "It's a lovely little party, isn't it?" she remarked absently. "Mum did a good job throwing it all together."

"It's— this is a _party,_ then?" Rebecca asked, shooting a glance at Marlene.

"Of course! What else would it be?" She turned off the sink and faced her friends.

"I don't know... A somber gathering?" Marlene suggested.

Lily laughed but otherwise ignored her. "Thank you so much for all the help. Mum's been _raving_ about you. She probably wishes you were her daughters."

"And, you're _sure_ you're alright?" Rebecca was starting to see Marlene's point, as much as she hated to admit it.

"I'm fine."

* * *

"How are you doing?" Peter asked gently, giving Lily a sympathetic look.

"Merlin, why does everyone keep asking that?" she wondered aloud. "I'm great, really," she assured him.

James frowned at Remus, who shrugged. They'd seen how worried she first received her mother's letter, and now she was acting like nothing had happened. "I have your things," James said, offering her all that she'd left at his house in her rush to get to the hospital.

She nodded at him and shoved the bag beneath her seat, but didn't say anything.

Mary joined them in their compartment, clutching a few photographs. "How is everyone?" she asked, lip trembling.

"We're good, for the most part," said Rebecca, scooting over to make room. "What's wrong?"

"My cat died last night!" she croaked, trying hard not to cry.

Marlene sighed. "Mary, I'm _very _sorry about your cat, really, I am, but _Lily's dad died!_" She looked at Lily for any reaction, but her face stayed impassive.

"Oh, _Lily!"_ Mary exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay."

"No, it is _not_ okay!" Marlene burst out, frustrated. "Your dad is _dead,_ Lily. You don't have to be okay! You're allowed to be upset."

"Marlene," Rebecca warned. "This isn't the right way to go about this!"

"Lily, you know my brother died a few years ago. I was inconsolable! Bex said she locked herself in her room when her grandfather died last summer. Mary is on the verge of tears over a _pet_! It's alright if you want to cry. We're not going to judge you."

Mary shuffled through the pictures in her hand, not pausing to look at any of them for very long. "What are those?" Rebecca asked.

She held up one of the photos; it was an orange cat.

Marlene lost it. "For Merlin's sake, Mary!" she shouted. "Nobody cares about your bloody cat right now!"

A lot of things happened directly after that. Mary began to cry and left in a hurry. Rebecca yelled at Marlene for being insensitive. Sirius left to go check on Mary. Lily squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead, silently wishing everybody would just _shut up._

"Lily," James said softly. She barely lifted her head in recognition that he had spoken. "Just so you know, I'm here if you need to talk about it."

"I'm _fine,_ Potter," she snapped.

So he was back to being _Potter?_


	11. Grieving

She was sitting on her bed, looking at pictures of that cat again, eyes glassy.

Marlene sighed, watching Mary. It had been a week since she's shouted at her friend for the very thing she wanted Lily to do: exhibiting any trace of emotion over a loss. She hadn't meant to lose her temper; she was just so tired of Lily acting like her life was perfect, because it was so much better to let out feelings than bottle it all up. If you kept your grief bottled up for too long, you were bound to explode.

When Joseph died, her mother didn't say a word. It was the summer before second year, and Emily McKinnon had taken him out for a treat because he was sad he hadn't gotten a letter from Hogwarts. A drunk driver hit the passenger side of her car. She was fine, but he had died instantly. Even though it was in no way her fault, Marlene's mum blamed herself for it, and let the guilt fester inside of her for months. She couldn't find an outlet for all of her sadness because she didn't think it was appropriate for her to cry about it, that Marlene and her father deserved to grieve but she didn't.

It wasn't until Emily tried to take her own life that she allowed herself to properly grieve the death of her son.

It was hell for Marlene, watching her mother's slow recovery, getting a long letter from her dad that said she had attempted suicide. When she was released from the hospital, she was better, though—she cried sometimes, but she had finally released all of the pent-up feelings she'd been keeping inside for so long.

Marlene didn't want the same thing to happen to Lily, and in the back of her mind, she _knew_ she was pushing too hard, but she just wanted her to cry it out and be okay again. She was sure she wasn't as fine as she swore to everyone she was; the past few nights, Marlene had woken up to find Lily sitting up in bed and staring out the window. She was frequently sporting a glazed expression, and she was studying far more than usual. Marlene was convinced that the girl hadn't slept since the funeral.

But none of the concerns she had about Lily excused her for lashing out at Mary, sweet Mary who was just sad that her cat died.

"I'm sorry," Marlene said at last. "About your cat, I mean."

"He was my mum's cat," she murmured, setting aside the pictures but not making eye contact. "Poseidon, he was old. For a cat, he was _ancient._ But, but he was Mum's, so I just, I'd hoped he would stay around for a little while longer."

Marlene blew her bangs out of her eyes, knowing what she had to do. They were the only two in their dormitory—Lily had prefect duties and Rebecca was in the Common Room—so it was her best chance. "What happened to her?"

"She was poisoned," said Mary bluntly.

She moved from her bed to the chair at Mary's desk. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Mary bit her lip and nodded. "When I was eight years old, Carina and Corvus Mulciber came over for tea. Carina and Mum were never close, of course, but I guess she saw it as an obligation. Something that came with being a Pure-blood. Carina sent her an owl one day about how they simply _must_ get together sometime and catch up. So Mum felt like she _had_ to invite Carina over. She came on New Year's Eve. And she brought Mulciber—the _horrible_ Slytherin boy, he's Carina's son—with her, maybe so she seemed more innocent, like she would never do anything sinister in front of her young and impressionable son." She laughed mirthlessly, because that was _exactly_ the sort of thing Carina Mulciber would do.

"Anyway, she told my mum that there was still time to redeem herself as a Flint—that was her name before she married Dad. Carina was going on about how the Macdonalds are blood traitors and it's just _such_ a shame my mum got mixed up with that lot, and she was helping fix the tea because she didn't want to be a rude and imposing guest. I thought I saw her hand drift over Mum's cup, but I wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything. Mum told her that she was _proud_ to be a Macdonald, that it was much better than being a Flint. Carina grabbed Corvus's arm and they left, but Mum had already had a sip of tea, and she hit the floor _right in front of me._"

Marlene wanted to say something, but Mary was still talking. She rarely got the chance to discuss it with anyone, and now that she had the opportunity, she couldn't stop herself. "The Mulcibers have always been known for how skilled they are at potions-making, so Dad knew at once that Carina had poisoned her. He rushed her to St. Mungo's, but they couldn't do anything about it. They ruled it a botched suicide and said we'd be lucky if she ever woke up, because they couldn't identify the poison. These Healers, they're supposed to be highly trained, but eight years later, they still haven't figured out what poison she used, or found an antidote. It was something Carina brewed up herself, just for the occasion. She wanted to send a message to all of us _blood traitors,_ and she did."

She hastily wiped at her eyes. "I go see her every year on the thirty-first, and she's still just sleeping. I don't even know if she can hear me, but I talk to her like she can, and it's so hard because she's gone but she isn't _gone._ She's still alive, but she might as well be dead, but I've always got that tiny shred of hope that she'll be cured one day and she'll wake up, but I know she probably won't. But Poseidon, he was nineteen. He's been around longer than I have. She got him when she married Dad. I've always felt like he was a piece of her, that as long as he was alive, she was still with me. But now he's gone, and all I've got are pictures and an annual visit to St. Mungo's."

Marlene stayed quiet for a long time, carefully crafting her response. She had never realized how much Mary was going through on a daily basis, and it definitely explained her need to become a Healer. "Your mum isn't gone, Mary. She's still with you, in your heart and mind and soul." She knew it was cliche, but in her experience, she had found it to be true. It was what her dad told her after Joey died. "As long as you remember her, she's with you. You don't need a cat to keep her memory alive."

* * *

James consulted the Map once more before shoving it deep in his pocket. If he stayed right where he was, Lily should get to him in a matter of seconds. He wanted to make himself unavoidable, because she'd been doing a damn good job at skirting away from him whenever he tried to strike up a conversation, and he just wanted to know what he'd done wrong.

"Potter!"

There it was, the voice he wanted to hear. He turned and grinned lazily at her. "Fancy meeting you here, Evans." He mentally scolded himself; he needed to be serious right now, not casual.

"You're out after hours," she commented. "That'll be a detention."

"You're joking, right?" he asked.

"You think the rules are a joke?" Her expression was dead and there wasn't a trace of humor in her eyes. She wasn't joking.

"No, I don't," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Yes, he did. For the most part.

"What are you doing out here, Potter?"

"I was hoping I'd run into you," he admitted, because he figured honesty would go a long way.

Lily frowned. She'd been doing that a lot lately when she saw him. "Why?" She looked around, hoping Remus would be finished soon and would save her from James. But he was always very thorough during rounds, something she appreciated most of the time. But now he couldn't be done fast enough; she needed an escape.

"I wanted to talk to you. You've been avoiding me and ignoring me and—"

"Take a hint," she snapped.

"I just want to know what I did, so I can fix it," he said earnestly. He thought he saw a flicker of _something_ cross her face, but then it was gone, back to the stony Lily everybody had grown used to over the past week.

"It can't be fixed."

So he _had_ done something. "What is it? I can try to make it better, whatever I did."

"No, you can't," she said flatly.

"At least tell me what it is?" he pleaded.

"My dad is dead."

Well, that wasn't what he expected. James exhaled loudly, unsure how to respond. "Er— do you, you don't _blame_ me for that, right?"

"Of course not. That would be silly." But there was something else, some sort of resentment. So quietly he thought he imagined it, Lily murmured, "I wasn't there."

"What?"

"I wasn't there," she repeated, her voice stronger. "My dad died and I wasn't there for it and it's _because of you._"

"Lily, I—"

"I picked you and your mates over my own family, Potter!"

"That's hardly my fault," he reasoned.

But she wasn't looking for reason; she wanted somebody to blame, somebody she could vent at because it was all too much for her. She hated the feeling of guilt that was swallowing her. "But it is!" she insisted angrily. "You, you invited me over in case my family got boring. If you hadn't done that, I would've stayed there and I would've been with my dad for his last few days. I would've gotten to say goodbye, but I didn't, and it's your fault."

James tried to put himself in her place. She had just lost her dad, who was clearly very important to her. It had been a sudden, unexpected death, and she hadn't been there for it. Even though his parents were a good bit older than those of his peers, the thought of being thrown into a situation like that was upsetting. He thought that, if the roles were reversed, he _might_ try to pin the blame on someone, but he couldn't be certain. "Lily, I'm s—"

"Don't _apologize!_" she shrieked. "Saying sorry isn't going to make it any better! He's gone and the last thing I said to him was 'well, okay,' and I _waved goodbye._ I didn't _say_ it, I didn't tell him I love him. I just fucking _left._ And that can't be fixed. Petunia and Mum were both there for his last minutes, and I wasn't, and I can never get those days back."

As much as the thought of her crying pained him, he would have much rather seen her cry right now. At least if she was crying, he had a fighting chance of making her feel better. He could try to comfort a crying Lily. But she was angry and hurt and guilty and she was directing all of it at him and he had no idea what to do. "When's my detention?" he asked.

That took her by surprise. "Er, Friday night."

He nodded. "Okay, thanks." And then he turned and walked away.

Lily watched him go, and she deflated. She _knew_ that none of it was his fault and that it was wrong to be cross with him, but it was so much easier than facing the truth: she had _chosen_ to go with him instead of stay with her family. It was her fault that she hadn't been there, and that was killing her. She made that choice, and it really had nothing to do with James. She put a hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs as she finally let herself break down.

There were footsteps rapidly approaching. "Go _away,_ Potter!"

"It's me," said Remus, putting an unsure hand on her shoulder.

She flung herself at him. "I should have been there!" she cried, because she _should have been there,_ and she couldn't go back and redo it but _Merlin,_ she wanted to. She would've given up everything to get those days back.

He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, patting her back gently. "I'm so sorry, Lily."


	12. Patronus Charms

Lily had her head bent over her desk in the back corner of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, scribbling away on a long piece of parchment.

This would have been perfectly acceptable, but all of her classmates were practicing around her, shooting tiny wisps of white out of their wands. She wasn't even _trying._ She should have been attempting a Patronus with everybody else, but she was sitting it out. Nobody said anything about it—they were all still being overly cautious around her, afraid she might break. She'd kept it together very well since the night she shouted at James and cried to Remus. She herself was convinced that she'd let everything out and that she was all better, though that was far from the truth.

"Evans, Lupin, Potter," Professor Drake called at the end of class. "I need you three to stay after."

Lily groaned and made her way to the front as almost everyone else filed out. She had a feeling she was going to get a lecture for not participating, but she wasn't sure why the other two were there.

"Remus," said Professor Drake. "Impressive work today."

"Er, thanks," he mumbled, cheeks flushing. He'd been the only one to successfully produce a corporeal Patronus, but he had hoped nobody noticed.

"James, you put in a good effort, but you aren't reaching your full potential."

James nodded. Aside from becoming an Animagus, this was the most difficult magic he'd ever attempted, and he knew it was going to take a lot of work to get it right.

"Lily, _what the hell was that?_" the professor asked. "You didn't give it a single try. I expect so much more from you." She looked disappointed, as though Lily had let her down.

"I'm sorry," she said, her face turning redder than Remus's. "I'll practice later," she said, because she didn't want to admit that she didn't think she could do it at all.

"I'm working on putting together study groups. This is an advanced spell that requires dedication to master. I want to make sure it's a good idea, though, so you three are my test group. You will practice the Patronus Charm together and report back to me on your progress. If it works, I'll assign the rest of the class to groups of their own. If it doesn't, at least you got some extra practice."

Lily sighed. This was her punishment, wasn't it?

* * *

"She refused, didn't she?"

Remus shrugged. "Not exactly, no." _Yes._

"Don't lie to me," James said. "I can handle it." _Could he?_

"She's not coming," Remus conceded. Lily had given him about thirty different excuses, none of which were valid, but he still didn't feel like arguing with her. He had personally seen just how broken she was over her father's death, even if she was denying it now. He wasn't going to force her to do something she flat-out didn't want to do. "But it's not because of you," he added. _Probably._

"Of course not," James agreed. _Of course it was._ "Did she say anything else?"

"You could try talking to her yourself," he suggested. _Please try talking to her yourself. _He was tired of being their liaison.

James laughed. "Right. Sure I could." _No he couldn't._ "Could you please? She talks to you about..._things._"

Remus rolled his eyes. Merlin, his friends could be dramatic. "I'll try." _Maybe. _If it happened to come up in conversation_._ "But we're not here to discuss Lily. We're here to practice."

"Right," he said again. "Well, let's get to it, then."

"The key to producing a strong Patronus is thinking of a happy memory, the _happiest memory you've got,_ and focus on it as hard as you can. Happiness is your best weapon, so harness it." He stopped, realizing he was starting to sound like a textbook or an instructional pamphlet.

James leaned against a desk, watching how excited his friend was getting about the subject. He hadn't seen him this enthusiastic about anything before. "Could you demonstrate, Professor Moony?" he teased.

"Is that necessary?"

"Completely," James said innocently. "I feel that to gain a better understanding of the spell, I should see it performed properly."

"I hate you," Remus muttered. Still, he retrieved his wand from his pocket and concentrated. He thought of the first time James, Sirius, and Peter had all three successfully accompanied him during his transformation. He had felt so happy and loved, having such wonderful friends by his side at all times. They were willing to risk _everything_ for him. "_Expecto Patronum!_" A silvery-white wolf burst forth, running several laps around the room before fading away.

"That was bloody amazing!" James shouted, clapping. "How are you so good at this?"

"I don't know." This was only a half-truth. He had a theory as to why he was able to produce a Patronus so easily, while James struggled with it. James's entire life, for the most part, was a happy memory. He had a solid, loving family and an easy childhood. He was charming and had no difficulty making friends. Most happy memories were average in James's life. Remus, on the other hand, was bitten at a young age. He hadn't had friends growing up, and his childhood had been plagued with the guilty feeling that he was a burden to his parents. A happy memory in his life stuck out easily, shining through everything else, and he was easily able to focus on it.

James gave it a try, but still only got tiny puffs of white. "What am I doing wrong?" he whined.

"Well, what were you thinking of?" He would've bet ten Galleons it was something Quidditch-related.

"The day I got my first broom."

Remus laughed. "Surely you can think of something better than that, Prongs. What's the _happiest feeling_ you can imagine, something that could get you through anything?"

His first instinct was Lily, but that wasn't enough. Yes, being around her made him happy, but it was typically complicated. Quidditch, then? But Remus said that the broom memory was weak, and Quidditch sometimes resulted in less-than-happy feelings. He needed something that was, without a doubt, a _happy _memory. He thought of his family. It was small and not very exciting, but—

That was it.

He concentrated on the day his parents told him Sirius could move in with them, how delighted both he and Sirius had been. They were really brothers from then on. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ It didn't stay for as long as the wolf, but the stag trotted for a few seconds before it vanished.

Remus beamed at him. "You did it!"

James smiled. He still needed to improve on it—a three-second Patronus would hardly do him any good—but he was making definite progress. "You know, you should be teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

* * *

As it usually did within Hogwarts, word travelled quickly about the potential threat of being grouped together to practice the Patronus Charm. Rather than risk getting thrown into a group they had no control over, many of the students had taken it upon themselves to practice in groups, or at least convinced a friend to help them, gathering in unoccupied classrooms to work on it. Little did they know that that was exactly what Professor Drake had hoped for. She wanted her students to put in the effort she knew they were capable of. They just needed a push in the right direction.

"I still can't _believe_ you're not taking this class," Lula Abbott commented, her eyes not leaving the book in front of her. "I thought it was required."

Dorian shrugged. "Only through fifth year. After that, it's not. I wasn't interested in taking it anymore."

"What could you _possibly_ want to do that you don't need to know how to defend yourself?" she asked skeptically.

"I want to be a writer."

She looked up at him. "How is it that you're not in Ravenclaw?"

"Merlin knows you spend enough time with them," Artemis said, startling both of them. They had forgotten he was there.

"_Must_ you always lurk?" she demanded.

"Oh, Lula Belle, what kind of brother would I be if I didn't watch out for you?" He said her name in a sing-song voice.

Lula glared. "The best kind," she muttered. She hated when he used her middle name like that; it was his way of asserting power as an older sibling, taunting her. "You've been spending an _awful_ lot of time with us Ravenclaws too lately," she pointed out. "Why's that?"

"I have to make sure you're surrounding yourself with the right people."

She snorted. "Nice try. They're giving you hell about Amelia, aren't they?" she guessed.

"They won't _stop,_" Artemis admitted. "Orcus found a letter from her and read it to everyone, so now they all know."

"Who's Amelia?" Dorian asked interestedly.

"His fiancee," Lula explained. "She's a Muggle, so naturally it's the end of the world for our family."

"Even worse than when she wasn't sorted into Slytherin," Artemis added.

"Your parents are really serious about the Pure-blood thing, aren't they?"

"They haven't spoken to me in years because they think Slytherin is the only truly _pure_ house," said Lula. She didn't seem too upset about it, and she wasn't. She was proud of her house, and she didn't want to be part of a family that couldn't accept that.

"They disowned me for speaking out against blood purity. I should invite them to the wedding," he mused jokingly. "That reminds me," he said, watching his sister carefully. "Have you found a date yet?" He smirked as she held back a snarl.

"Hasn't really been a priority," she snapped. "Now, if you could _leave,_ I actually have work to do."

"As you wish, Lula Belle." With a devilish grin, he left, cackling.

"He's the worst," she grumbled, but there was a certain fondness in her voice. As much as he got on her nerves, her brother was her best friend and closest ally. She waved her wand, then sighed when nothing happened. "I don't see what I'm doing wrong. I'm doing everything the book says."

Dorian was quiet, just observing the way she chewed on her lip, concentrating as she tried again and again, still not producing anything more than smoke. She wound her hair around her fingers, setting down her wand and pouting. It was rare for her to give up on anything, but she was close to calling it quits.

"Gryffindor's playing Ravenclaw this weekend," he remarked casually.

"Yep."

"Are you going?"

"Are you kidding?" Lula was one of the few students who _despised_ Quidditch and everything to do with it. "I'd rather do anything else."

"Oh, I know," he said quickly. "Me too. I was just wondering if you'd like to, well, do _anything else_ with me? Just not watch the match or study."

She looked at him for a long minute before smiling. "I'd like that."

"It's a date!"

Still grinning like an idiot, she gave it one last attempt. True, she wasn't suddenly able to conjure a perfect corporeal Patronus, and she couldn't even distinguish what animal it resembled. But it was more than vapor this time, and that was enough of an accomplishment for now.

* * *

Edgar Bones, it turned out, was almost as skilled as Remus when it came to producing a Patronus. His entire family was very adamant about learning defensive spells, so he was well-trained. "It's complicated, of course," he said to his captivated audience of three people. "But when you _really_ set your mind to it, it's simpler than the books make it seem."

Marlene glanced at Rebecca and Peter. Peter was legitimately taking notes. Rebecca was nodding in understanding, her eyes following Edgar's badger Patronus as it scampered about the classroom.

"Marlene, why don't you give it a go?"

She jumped. "Er, alright." She closed her eyes and thought about the day her parents took her and Joseph to the zoo. He spent the entire time mimicking the monkeys and she'd wanted to strangle him, but it was such a good memory now. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ She was disappointed to see that it was hardly an improvement from her efforts in class.

"That was good for a start," Edgar said kindly. "Rebecca, you next."

"Can you come back to me?" she asked. "I'm still trying to think of a good memory." Everything she thought of was too bland.

"Sure. Peter?"

Peter gulped and set down his quill. He remembered the night he tried to hex Avery, how brave and invincible he had felt—it was the best feeling in the world. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ He was astonished to see a misty rat form; it was gone in less than a second, but still, _he did it._

Edgar clapped him on the back. "Well _done,_ Peter!"

* * *

James had just left his and Remus's practice session, feeling very good about his abilities, when he heard the unmistakeable sound of somebody crying.

He quietly crept towards the classroom he thought was the source of the noise, and peered through the open door.

_"Expect—Expecto, Expecto P— _Damn it!"

Lily was sitting alone on a desk, her head bowed. James could tell she was upset, and that she had been practicing by herself for a while. He wanted to go comfort her, but every time he tried, she pushed him away. She was still holding it against him that she had been with him when her father died, and he understood the need to find someone to blame, but he was only trying to help. All he wanted was for her to feel better, and he didn't know how to do that.

He'd thought they were getting closer. They were definitely friends at some point—for a short time, yes, but they _had_ been friends, right? She'd seemed to enjoy herself at his house; she'd even joked about _marrying_ him. You didn't even _joke_ about marrying someone you weren't at least _kind of_ close to.

Whatever they _had_ been, they weren't anymore, and so James allowed himself to watch her sadly for just a moment longer before shaking his head and walking away. He needed to clear his head; he had a Quidditch match coming up in a few days, after all.

* * *

Sirius had no trouble picking out his happy memory of choice—the day the Potters said he could stay with them. He was just having difficulty staying focused. When he was working on becoming an Animagus, the end goal had been very obvious to him; he was able to work diligently because he knew when and why he would be using it. But the Patronus was tougher because, while he _knew_ Dementors were a threat, he couldn't quite see a time in the near future when he would need to defend himself against one.

Mary, on the other hand, found it easy to focus. She just wasn't having as much luck with a happy memory. "What memory do you think of when you try?" she asked, twirling her wand and accidentally sending sparks his way. "Sorry."

"Moving in with the Potters. You?"

"That's just it—I _can't_ think of anything." She knew it was pathetic, because her life was good, for the most part. But she couldn't think of something powerful enough that it could repel Dementors.

"What about your mum?"

She raised an eyebrow. Sirius, of course, knew the story of what happened. Most Pure-bloods did. Hell, most of their world knew about it. Delphine was well-known, and the _Prophet_ wrote about it for weeks after. "What about her?"

"D'you have any really good memories of her from before she..." He trailed off. People usually trailed off when they talked about Mary's mum.

She wracked her brain, because _of course_ she did. "Sometimes I wish I was more like Marlene," she said quietly. "Everything comes so naturally to her."

Sirius shook his head. "Sure, Marlene's good at classwork, but you're..." _Prettier. More fun. Sweeter. _"...more determined."

She laughed at the attempted compliment. "Let's see if my determination has rubbed off on you. Try again."

_"Expecto Patronum!" _He still wasn't focused enough, though.

"I have an idea. Stay there," she commanded, grinning excitedly. She walked across the room and waved her wand, plunging them into darkness. "_Lumos," _she murmured, now holding her wand beneath her chin so she was the only thing he could see clearly. "Since you keep getting distracted by everything else, let's try it this way. Just focus on me and try. Now there's nothing to distract you."

He meant to try, just like she said. But now that she was all he could see, he had no choice but to stare at her. The light from her wand illuminated her face, her wavy brown hair and grey eyes, and she looked so _beautiful._

"Is it helping?" she asked, suddenly unsure because he hadn't said a word.

"No," he said honestly.

"Oh." Her face fell. "I thought maybe—"

"It's not working," he explained, taking a few steps until he was directly in front of her. "Because now _you're _distracting me." He didn't wait to see her response. Sirius was tired of wondering and _maybe_, and he was sick of waiting and the lingering _what if_, so he put his hands on either side of her face, leaned down, and kissed her.

* * *

**I** just wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed, followed, favorited, and read this so far. It makes me so happy that even a few people like it!


	13. Quidditch

"He _what?_"

"You heard me," Mary replied, frowning.

Marlene gaped at her. "I just need a minute to process this, that's all."

Rebecca tapped her foot impatiently. "Try not to take too long processing. The match is starting soon." Her hair was red with gold streaks for the occasion.

Mary had just gotten around to telling her friends about what happened with Sirius, and they were reacting in a predictable fashion. Marlene was shocked and Rebecca acted like she'd seen it coming. Lily didn't say anything, which was typical of her lately. Still, Mary tried to engage her in conversation. "What do _you_ think about this?"

Lily shrugged, turning a page in the Defense Against the Dark Arts book she was reading. Over the past few days, she had been absorbed with that book, obsessing over it. Her friends noticed but didn't know how to handle the situation.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to go?" Rebecca asked.

"I'm sure," said Lily.

Mary's frown deepened. "Well, if you change your mind, we'll be in our usual spot." After one last glance at their sleep-deprived friend, they left.

"She's going to kill herself if she keeps up like this," Marlene said.

Rebecca nodded in agreement. "She _loves_ Quidditch. I can't see _why_ she wants to stay in."

"Talking about Lily?" Remus smirked as the girls passed through the Common Room, joining them on their walk to the Quidditch pitch.

"Who else?" Rebecca took in his attire—he was wearing a sweater _and_ scarf with Gryffindor's colors. "You're feeling spirited, aren't you?"

He laughed. "You're one to talk," he pointed out.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, fluffing her hair. "This is natural."

He rolled his eyes, then saw that Mary was scanning the stands. "Sirius is giving James the usual pre-match pep talk," he explained.

"I didn't say—"

"You didn't need to." With a sly wink, he led them to the seats Peter had been saving.

Sirius made his way towards them a few minutes later. "Where's Evans?"

"She wasn't interested," Marlene said simply as someone took a seat next to her.

"Merlin, she's ill." He shook his head. "What are you doing here?" he asked the newcomer.

"Official wedding business," Artemis said seriously. "Can I count on you to be there? We have to have _some_ Pure-blood representation for the quota."

Sirius grinned. He had never been particularly close to the Abbott siblings—he spoke to them in passing sometimes—but he appreciated what Artemis was doing. He was throwing away the very possibility of redemption, and he didn't give a damn because he wasn't going to follow a certain path just because it was what his parents wanted. "Of course."

"Excellent. It's on July eleventh. It'll be small—mostly Mia's family, a few classmates. Lula's my only family that will be there. You can bring a date if you like. I'm inviting your cousin. I always liked Andromeda. And, you know, the quota and whatnot. We're still working out most of the details; I'll give you an invitation _if_ she ever gets them done." He chuckled, because he found it funny that _she_ was the one procrastinating in the wedding planning and he was the one rushing around to get everything done. With a tip of an imaginary hat, he was gone.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "He's a strange one, isn't he?"

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Macdonald," he began casually. "Fancy attending a wedding with me?"

Mary tried not to sound overly eager. "I suppose I could manage that."

"What's the quota?" Marlene asked.

"Whenever a Pure-blood gets married, there have to be at _least_ three Pure-bloods _not_ from the direct family to witness it and sign their approval of the marriage. It's old magic put in place to keep teenagers from rebelling and marrying a Muggle just to piss off their parents." But Artemis, it seemed, was working with the archaic rule while still rebelling.

The teams finally made their way to the pitch. "How was he?" Peter asked Sirius.

"You know how he gets before a match. Jittery as hell. I had to help him put his gloves on. He's got nothing to be nervous about—Ravenclaw's had a _dreadful_ few years. But he's worse this year; now he's captain, he feels even more responsible for how they do. He's getting himself worked up over nothing."

"It's admirable how easily you can brush aside your friend's concerns," Remus said sarcastically.

* * *

James had to keep reminding himself to breathe as he shook hands with Ravenclaw's captain, Derek Smith. Sirius had tried to talk sense into him before the match, as he always did. But he wasn't one to be reasoned with right now; his mind was still going through every possible scenario, everything that could go wrong. What if one of the Beaters dropped a bat? What if they forgot all of the plays they'd spent weeks practicing? What if Smith caught the Snitch within the first few seconds and Gryffindor didn't score any points? What if Dorcas Meadowes dropped the Quaffle straight into the hands of an opposing Chaser like she had against Hufflepuff two years ago?

Once he mounted his broom and started flying, of course, all of these thoughts left his mind. The Beaters wouldn't drop their bats—Jones and Newt were the best Hogwarts had seen in a long time. The plays were so ingrained in their minds that it would take a strong Memory Charm to forget them. Smith was slow for a Seeker, he noticed.

Dorcas had, after all, only been thirteen when she dropped the Quaffle; she passed it to James now with perfect execution, and he threw it through the left ring easily. He did a quick check to make sure everyone was doing their jobs: Andrew Kennings, Rebecca's older brother, hadn't let a goal in yet. Jones and Newt had their usual system going. Olivia got the Quaffle back from Ravenclaw and she and Dorcas were passing it back and forth as they sped down the field. Jonathan was circling above, eyes darting all over the place, hunting the Snitch.

He smiled to himself—they were _definitely_ doing their jobs. James was proud of his team. They put in so much work, dedicated three nights a week to practice, and it _showed._ If they kept up playing like they did for the first ten minutes, then there was no way Ravenclaw would beat them.

Sirius was right, not that he would ever admit it to him. It had been five years since Ravenclaw had won a match, and this wouldn't be the one to break that streak. He tossed the Quaffle to Olivia and watched her hurl it through the center hoop. They were winning seventy to nothing.

They were _unstoppable._

Of course, the second he allowed himself to think that, something came out of nowhere and stopped him.

* * *

"How long's he going to be out for?" Peter asked worriedly.

"Poppy said a couple hours," said Sirius. It had already been about an hour and a half, so he was due to wake up at any time.

"Why do you _insist_ on calling me that, Black?" Madam Pomfrey frowned. It was the middle of the day, so she had no reason to kick them out, but she assumed that they would have no trouble at all _giving_ her a reason. After all, with their ringleader unconscious, they would be itching for mischief within the next few minutes. So she set out chairs for them and waited.

"It's a good thing he was close to the ground," Remus commented.

"You think he knows what happened?" Peter sat in the chair at the foot of James's bed, while Remus and Sirius took the ones at either side.

"For his sake, I hope he doesn't," Sirius said grimly.

James stirred slightly. "Out of _all_ the things I imagined going wrong," he mumbled. "Colliding with Smith's elbow wasn't one of them."

"To be fair, _you_ didn't collide with _him_," Sirius corrected. "His elbow hit you in the head and then you fell off your broom."

He opened his eyes to glare at him. "Regardless, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind that that could happen. Bludger to the head, yes. That's always a fear. Not this." He groaned and rubbed the sore spot at his temple. "How far did I fall?"

"Only about fifteen feet. No permanent brain damage," Remus assured him.

"And it's not like you've never had a concussion," added Peter.

"Surprisingly, none of this is making me feel any better," he deadpanned. "Did we win, at least?"

Silence.

* * *

Much later, after his friends had all been kicked out, James found himself longing for the presence of a particular redhead.

It was ridiculous, because she'd given no indication that she wanted anything to do with him anymore. She hadn't even gone to the match—he shouldn't have even bothered to look for her, but he had anyway. He realized, though, that it wasn't about _him_ like he initially thought it was. He'd come to terms with the fact that she was projecting all of her internal turmoil onto him because he was the easiest target; this was about _Lily _and how much she missed her dad. She was hurting and trying to keep it bottled up, and she couldn't even conjure a Patronus. Of course she was going to want someone to direct all of that anger and heartache at. He didn't like it, but he understood.

Still, he kept glancing to the door, hoping she might show up anyway.

When he looked up to see a shock of red hair, he nearly jumped off the bed, though he quickly noticed that it was far too vibrant to belong to Lily. "Why are you here?" he asked, as Rebecca made herself comfortable in the chair Peter had occupied earlier that day.

"Why do you think?"

He groaned. His was in pain and he was tired. He didn't want to _think._ "You've come to tell me it wasn't my fault and that the Common Room isn't full of misery tonight?"

"Er, no," she apologized. "That would be a lie. I'm here to give you this." She handed him a large bar of chocolate. "Lily sent it," she explained.

That was unexpected. "Oh. Thanks. Why isn't she here herself?" He instantly hated how needy he sounded.

"She's been putting off a Transfiguration essay all week. She said she _might_ come see you tomorrow, but don't get your hopes up."

James half-smiled. "What happened at the end of the match? Sirius refused to tell me. I know we lost, but—but what _happened?_"

"Well, after you got knocked off your broom, Jonathan abandoned his dive for the Snitch to make sure you were alright. Smith didn't even look back."

"I'm going to _murder_ him," James fumed.

"Smith? I think Olivia and Dorcas might beat you to it."

"No, _Jonathan!_" he burst out. "He should know better than to _ever_ take his eyes off the Snitch! I don't care if I fell a hundred feet or got hexed off my broom or if Voldemort himself shows up!"

Rebecca cringed, both at the name and James's tone. "Try and go easy on him. He's just a kid."

He sighed. He knew she was right, but that didn't stop him from being angry. He wouldn't kill Jonathan, but he would definitely have a stern chat with him about distractions. But he didn't want to talk about that, or even think about it right now. "What _is_ your natural hair color?"

The question startled her; she'd been expecting a rant about the duties of the Seeker. "Honestly, I don't remember."


	14. Apologies

"I'm sorry."

James pulled himself to a seated position. "What was that?" he asked, unable to contain his smirk when Lily took the chair next to his bed.

"Are you really going to make me say it again?"

"I have a head injury," he complained. "I might've heard you wrong."

"You're making this so hard!" she exclaimed. "I'm. Sorry. Okay? I'm sorry I've been taking everything out on you lately, and I'm sorry I've been so rude to everyone who tried to make me feel better. I'm sorry I wouldn't practice with you and Remus. I'm sorry I've been snappy and that I've been avoiding and ignoring you. I'm sorry I didn't go to the match yesterday, and I'm sorry you were hardly there yourself, although that's definitely not my fault, so I s'pose I've run out of things to apologize for. I'm just, I'm really sorry about everything."

"Yeah, I got that." He smiled. "What brought on this new apologetic Lily?"

"A letter from Mum, a _really long_ letter from Mia, and a chat with Remus." She paused before adding, "Mostly the chat with Remus."

Good old Moony, always in James's corner. He really did have the best friends a bloke could ask for. He was itching to ask what he'd said to her, but decided it was better for him that he didn't. "So I hear Sirius is going to that wedding," he said casually.

Lily looked stricken. "He's _what?_"

James clapped a hand to his forehead. They'd been back on speaking terms for a good two minutes before he mucked it up. "You didn't know? Merlin, shit, I—"

"Calm down!" she interrupted quickly. "I'm just messing with you. You think the maid of honor wouldn't know a detail as crucial as the guest list?"

"Maid of honor?" he asked, though it made sense. Lily was, for the most part, a stable and sane person, and could handle almost any crisis. She was a good choice.

She shrugged. "I guess _some_ childhood friendships stick around. She said Sirius and his cousin are invited because of a quota. Do you know anything about that?"

James rolled his eyes. "Pure-blood nonsense, really. A Pure-blood's marriage isn't valid unless there are a minimum of three Pure-bloods _not_ in the close family there to witness the wedding."

"With Sirius, Andromeda, and Mary all going, that's settled pretty easily, then."

"Mary's invited too?"

"Sirius asked her to go with him." She figured he would've known that already. Sometimes she felt like James and his mates gossiped more than she and her friends did.

He _did_ know that already; he just wanted an opening to mention the date thing. "Sirius is bringing a date. Are you—"

"Probably not."

He frowned. Not that he'd _expected_ her to ask him, or even _hoped_ it would happen... But he'd wanted a better answer than that.

"I have something for you," she announced, digging through her bag before pulling out a pink envelope. She handed it to him.

"A get well soon card? You _shouldn't_ have!"

"It's a save the date," she explained. "I just got them from Mia this morning; she hasn't picked out the _actual_ invitations yet, but— Why are you looking at me like that?"

He was staring at her in confusion. "Why are you giving me a save the date?"

"Surprise! You're the third bridesmaid," Lily teased. "Artemis wanted to invite you in case Andromeda can't come; he said he'd rather have a surplus of Pure-bloods than not enough to meet quota. And also that it would just be more salt in his parents' wounds if a bunch of Pure-bloods show up at his wedding."

"Can _I_ bring a date?"

Lily grabbed a piece of parchment where she'd been making notes about logistics. They wanted to keep the wedding small—no more than fifty people—and were only inviting Mia's _close_ family to avoid uncomfortable conversations. Not that Mia had much family anyway, with her dad being an only child and her mum only having one sibling. There was plenty of room in the guest list. There wasn't anything _wrong_ with James Potter bringing a date; she just couldn't understand why he wanted to. "Sure, I guess."

"Excellent!" He clapped his hands together excitedly. "Just wait till Moony finds out."

She burst out laughing. "You want to bring _Remus?_"

"Why not? You should invite Peter to go with you."

She felt that this was a terrible idea, because inviting Peter would essentially mean that the Marauders would be hijacking the wedding, but he was so enthusiastic about it, and they were sure to liven up a small wedding, and it was incredibly hard to deny the wishes of someone in a hospital bed. "Fine. One condition." She reached into her bag once more, this time pulling out a small folder. "Help me decide which dress is the _least_ ugly?" She offered him the folder.

He took it, unsure. "Er, what—"

"Mia sent me pictures of bridesmaid dresses she likes. There's only three bridesmaid: me, Lula Abbott, and Mia's cousin, and she's letting us all choose our own dresses from her selection." She wrinkled her nose. "Unfortunately, they're all rather—"

"Hideous?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of _atrocious._"

* * *

"What did you say to her?"

Remus pretended not to hear James, instead focusing on the more pressing matter at hand: Sirius's hair. "Peter, are you _sure_ you don't remember what you did?"

Peter nodded, his expression a mixture of horror and amusement. "I'm _so_ sorry, Padfoot," he mumbled.

Sirius scowled. "Moony," he whined impatiently. "Fix it!"

"I'm trying!" he snapped, tapping his wand on his friend's scalp.

"What did you say to Lily?" he repeated, more insistent.

"Whatever he said must've been convincing," said Peter, hoping to take attention away from the damage he had caused to Sirius's hair. "She spent most of her birthday in the Hospital Wing with you."

Merlin, he'd forgotten all about her birthday. "Remus—"

"James, if you don't shut the hell up about Lily, I'm going to shut you up myself," he threatened, frowning as he tried another spell on Sirius, with no improvement. "I hate to say it, but you might be stuck like this for a while."

"I will _kill_ you, Peter!" Sirius roared.

"I'm sorry!" he squeaked.

James finally seemed to notice what was going on, coming out of his curious haze. "Why's your hair gold?" Sirius had a headful of glistening hair.

"Wormtail mixed something into my shampoo and he can't remember what it is."

James chortled, but stopped quickly at the murderous look on Sirius's face. "Er, sorry. Is there a potion that can restore it?"

"Probably," Remus said. He pondered it for a minute. "James, could you go fetch Miss Evans for me? Explain the situation and see if she can charm Slughorn into giving her the remedy." Before James could even attempt to bargain, he offered, "I'll tell you how I got her to talk to you _if_ you can do this for me."

That was all he needed—he grabbed the Map and bolted from the dormitory at once.

"He's so pliable," Sirius chuckled fondly. "You think Sluggie can concoct something to fix this?"

"I hope so. Gold doesn't suit you."

Sirius went through the stages of grief several times more before James returned with Lily in tow, holding a vial of pure white liquid. She made no effort to control her laughter at the sight of Sirius. "Well hello there, Goldilocks."

Remus was the only one who appreciated the jab. "Careful, Evans. He's barking mad right now."

Still laughing, she handed the potion to Sirius. "Drink up, and you'll be back to normal in a few minutes. Merlin, I want to remember this _forever!_"

"It's good to see you smiling again," said Peter. He, like everyone else, had gotten accustomed to the sad Lily who was present over the past few weeks. The return to normal was refreshing.

Sirius downed the potion in one sip, gagging and sputtering. "That was _horrible!_" he choked out unnecessarily.

"Better than that hair," she reminded him.

"While you're here, I got you something." Remus grabbed a book from his trunk. "It just came in this morning so I haven't had time to wrap it, but happy birthday anyway!"

She took the book, her face radiant. "Remus Lupin, you are the _best_!" she crowed gleefully. It was a book on advanced defensive magic that she'd mentioned wanting to buy. "How did you get this so quickly?"

"Flourish and Blotts has a mail-order service. Didn't you know?"

She rarely took the time to appreciate what wonderful people she had in her life, but it hit her then. Remus, with his patched-up robes and arsenal of personal and financial problems, had bought her what appeared to be a relatively expensive book, just because he knew she wanted it. Damn it, now she was getting emotional over this, and she'd cried enough this month. She took a steadying breath. "Thank you _so_ much!"

He was just glad she was starting to be happy again. He knew that it would be a long time before she was completely better, and she would never truly get over her father's death, but she was taking steps in the right direction, and that was why he bought her the book. She'd taken up a strong interest in Defense Against the Dark Arts lately, from her obsession over the Patronus Charm to her late-night research, and he knew that a new hobby was sometimes the best thing to ease the pain.

She gave him a quick hug, smirked at Sirius, and waved goodbye before leaving the room, a spring in her step.

"Okay, she's gone—_what_ did you tell her?"

"We were practicing Patronuses and I asked if she missed her dad," he began, hoping James wouldn't question the fact that, even though she refused to work in a group, she would work with just him. "She still wasn't getting anything more than smoke, and she looked at me like I was an idiot and said of _course_ she misses her dad. I asked her if she missed you and she said yes, she kind of did, and I reminded her that you're still around and there's no reason she should be missing you since she could talk to you any time she wants. Then she got upset because, well, I don't actually know what she was crying over that time. But in the end, she agreed that she needed to quit blaming you."

James felt an inexplicable pang of envy. Moony was closer to Lily that _he_ had ever been. He was helping her through her Patronus troubles, while James only knew she was struggling because he'd accidentally spied on her. He got her a gift for her birthday because he knew exactly what she wanted; James _forgot_ it was her birthday. She cried on his shoulder. Though he knew there was nothing romantic about the relationship between the two of them, he still found himself jealous of their friendship.

But, she _had_ asked his opinion on her bridesmaid dress. That counted for something, didn't it?

_"Merlin!"_ Peter yelped suddenly, bringing James out of his reverie. When he saw was Peter was staring at, it was all he could do not to shout the same thing.

Sirius's hair was changing, just not back to its normal black. It was turning white.

Sirius ran to a mirror to see what they were gawking at, and a long stream of swear words emitted from his mouth before he ran out in search of Lily.

As Peter and Remus dissolved into laughter, James announced, "I bloody _love_ her!"


End file.
